


Audacious

by yourpricelessadvice



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Awkward Dates, Banter, Blow Jobs, Bottom Harry, Bottom Louis, Boys Kissing, Cute, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, Friendship, Gryles Friendship, Hand Jobs, Harry pov, M/M, Nicknames, Nipple Licking, No Angst, Pub mate dates, Smut, Snapchat, Texting, Top Harry, Top Louis, emojis, nouis friendship, they kinda share that really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-03 01:19:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6590857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourpricelessadvice/pseuds/yourpricelessadvice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Nick cook up a devilish plan to get Harry out of a terrible first date. Things get better on the tube journey home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The idea of Harry bursting into tears to get out of a date came to me and I had to try and make something out of it, so here is chapter one of a probable three. 
> 
> Featuring Snapchatting, (my attempt at) humour, cute early blossoms of new relationships and Nick-Harry friendship.
> 
> Apologies in my perception of London is inaccurate!
> 
> UPDATE: 1/6/15 - I edited a tiny bit when HL meet in chapter 1 because I had Louis asking Harry if Nick was his boyfriend, but Harry had just come from a date with someone else, so obviously not! I never picked up on that before, sorry for that!

 

 

[Tumblr masterpost!](http://mummyamy10.tumblr.com/post/168394076319/audacious-shamelessamy10-harrylouis-44)

 

* * *

 

 

_What do you do for work? Do you enjoy it? Are you into sports? Films? Favourite music? What’s your perfect weekend?_

Harry is trying, he really is.

There are only so many questions you can feign interest in asking before you have to admit that it’s going nowhere.

This guy’s foot is entwined with his under the table and although Harry shows zero interest in reciprocating or much less joining in with this aborted attempt at a game of footsie, he persists and Harry’s questions go largely unanswered.

“Do you drive? What sorta car do you have?” Harry perseveres, part of him wondering just how far he can push this. He could ask this guy ‘what’s your favourite brand of toilet paper’ or ‘have you ever been abducted by aliens’ and he probably wouldn’t even flinch.

“Audi,” His date replies, and of course, he seems like an Audi type. “Just enough room in the backseat for a good time.”

Yeah, just as Harry thought, he’s definitely an Audi type.

Harry excuses himself to the toilets with his phone in his pocket, knowing exactly who he wants. He lets himself into a stall and sits on the closed lid, hammering furiously a text to his best mate Nick.

_‘This is bloody awful Grim, call me in ten minutes with a pretend emergency? x’_

_‘No way, that is sooo cringe! xx’_

Harry can’t be gone too long, or it will look suspicious; and not the intriguing kind of suspicious but the gross kind of suspicious. In a quick fire succession of texts, he and Nick come up with the perfect plot to get him out of this date with the awful man. If it works Harry gets a tenner, too.

Back at the table, Harry takes a deep breath and continues trying. His date has barely touched his dinner, whereas Harry has concentrated most of his efforts into enjoying his risotto.

“Your arse in those jeans is to die for.” His date leans over and almost purrs at Harry. He can feel his skin crawl but he just smiles and says thank you.

“Do you have mostly girl friends or guy friends?”

“Why?” His date asks, a disgusting, leering grin appearing over his features. “You into kinky shit? Group stuff?”

Harry lets a false interested smile linger on his lips for a moment as he decides what the best response would be. Eventually, he decides on Fiercely Possessive.

“Absolutely not, I just want you all to myself, no-one else better even look at you, you’re mine.”

The guy falters a bit, but seems encouraged by this and _for God sake_! Harry quickly concludes that he is sat opposite the worst person in the history of humans.

“Baby boy wants daddy all to himself does he?”

Harry has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from snorting. The guy calls him princess and Harry tenses up awkwardly as he reaches over and actually _tugs_ on one of Harry’s curls. Hell no.

There is only one thing for it. Burst into tears.

“I just can’t believe I’ve found someone like you!” Harry suddenly cries out theatrically, looking up to the ceiling. _Fancy cornices, huh._ “It’s early I know but I feel such a connection, I can’t wait to tell my mum, you have to meet her! She's visiting next week!”

He pauses and sneaks a look at his date, who is squirming in his seat with panic in his eyes, choking on the words he is trying to find. Feeling satisfied, Harry takes a deep, sobbing breath and really ramps it up for his big finale. “Do you feel it too? I’m sorry for crying, I just feel so emotional, I’ve finally found the one!”

Scrambling to his feet, his date throws down a twenty and a ten pound note (nice touch) and stuffs his wallet back into his trouser pocket furiously. “Sorry, mate, I really don’t think this is gonna work. Thanks for the dinner.”

Harry, who has since covered his face with his hands, separates two fingers to watch the man dash towards the exit. People are watching, but the exhibitionist in Harry laps it up. Instantaneously, he removes his hands, clears his throat and smiles smugly to himself.

He pulls out his phone and hammers out a message:

_‘Be prepared to cough up the ten quid Grimshaw, it worked! I’m stopping by yours after I finish my food x’_

He places his phone neatly by the side of his plate and stares across at the half-eaten chicken and roasted sweet vegetables his date had ordered. Helping himself to a forkful of veg and lashings of posh gravy off the plate, he takes his time to finish every last mouthful and enjoy the wine that he would never normally order.

His phone lights up with a reply from Nick, which makes him chuckle.

_‘You’re staying to finish your dinner? Savage mate. I will have shitty TV and a cuppa waiting for you love x’_

_‘Of course, I paid for it. Well half of it at least x’_

_‘You’re unbelievable. I still don’t quite believe you tho, you could be having me on, trying to trick an old man out of his money x’_

_‘Check snapchat. xx’_

Harry quickly switches to Snapchat and snaps a picture of the empty space and half eaten meal opposite him, captioning it ‘all by myself’ before flipping to front camera and sending a 3 second clip of himself brandishing the notes with a maniacal grin on his face.

_‘Hmm, you dirty dog. If Anne asks I had nothing to do with this x’_

_‘Don’t worry, some things aren’t meant for the ears of mothers. x’_

He waves across a sweet young waitress and asks for the bill, smoothing down his ill-gotten notes in the leather bound book and adding his own twenty to it. The waitress giggles profusely, blushing as Harry instructs her to keep the change and have a lovely rest of her shift and a great night.

*

It’s unusually quiet as he makes his way down to the tube station, the bumping and thumping of bass from the nightclubs the only sound other than the steady clip-clop of his boots against the saturated pavement. He keeps his hands shoved deep in his coat pockets, the charcoal grey material swishing around his knees as Harry wishes he had remembered a scarf. The walk to the tube always seems longer when it’s cold. Which it always is in England.

As he clatters down the steps of the station, he arrives on an empty platform. There are seven minutes until the tube is due, so he settles on the cold metal bench, the chill of the surface seeping through his jeans and chilling his legs and bum right through. A few more people arrive as the tube looms closer, but Harry pays them little mind as a Snapchat notification comes through showing Nick in some horrifically distorted filter; followed promptly by normal Nick crouched down awkwardly in his kitchen next to the kettle, with the caption ‘tea for two’ and the heart eyes emoji. Rolling his eyes, he flips to his Inbox and sends Nick a message. He fires back an immediate response.

_‘Your new friend is fit Grim x’_

_‘Kettle selfie, it’s a thing Styles. x’_

_‘Are you just sitting by the window waiting for me to arrive? x’_

_‘Shhhh don’t expose me xx’_

_‘#EXPOSEGRIMMY xx’_

_‘Shitbag xxx’_

Harry chuckles as their back-and-forth continues, Snapchat notifications buzzing so frequently that he has to switch his phone to silent.

"Care to share the joke?" An unfamiliar voice breaks into his reverie and shakes him out of it. When he looks round, glowing blue portals shine back at him despite the dim and dingy unnatural light of the tube station. His bouncy, round-edged accent is familiar, it sounds like home in a sea of slackened Southern accents he has been surrounded by for so many years now.

"Eh?" is all he can manage, stuttering breathlessly like he’s been kicked in the stomach. He hadn’t even been aware of this person’s existence less than a minute ago, and now he feels like he everything he owns belongs to this man.

"You’ve been grinning at your phone for the last five minutes, must be something good?” The man explains, and if Harry wasn’t so amazed by those captivating eyes, he’d find this whole thing very strange. People don’t just approach other people at the tube station for friendly chit-chat; that is _not_ the done thing.

“Umm, no it’s just… nothing interesting.”

“Fair enough.” The man nods, bemused and returns to staring down at the floor. Harry keeps a cool and calm exterior but inside he is screaming.

“I had a date.” Harry says, _why?_ Something unexplainable flashes across those lovely blue eyes and Harry finds himself unable to stop talking. “Awful, it was… well, he was an idiot. Grim, I mean Nick sorry, bet me that I couldn’t get rid of him without resorting to faking an emergency. Y’know, get rid of him. Sabotage it.”

“ _Sabotage_ it?” The boy repeats with a scandalised shriek that rattles off the cold walls. He claps his hands together gleefully and exclaims, “Tell me more!”

“I’m not proud of this-”

“Yes you are!” He interrupts.

“Alright, well yes, it was quite good. He was harping on about this an’ that, so I just started shrieking and wailing how he was the one and I already knew in my heart we would be together forever and I even turned on the waterworks.”

“What did he do?” The boy asks, his eye wide as he hangs on Harry’s every word.

“He was outta there before I could even get to the best bit! Left thirty quid towards dinner and that was it.”

“Bloody hell!” He exhales deeply, looking at Harry as if he hung the moon and the stars. “Is that not embarrassing though?”

“I dunno, I suppose so. I’m quite… theatrical though, it doesn’t bother me. I just carried on eating and pretended nothing had happened. People soon looked the other way.”

“Wait, you carried on eating? You bugger!”

“Yeah, why is everyone so shocked by that? Nick gave me a roasting for that too!”

“I guess I’ve just never met anyone with that much bravado.”

“Posh word.”

“I like the posh words.”

“The posh words like you too.” Harry says, and although it doesn’t entirely make sense it seems to work in the heat of the moment.

“I hope you’d never do something like that to me.” The guy says, wiggling his eyebrows as he smiles.

Harry is taken aback. His cheeks start to flush with colour and heat as he processes everything. “Are you… _what_ are you insinuating, Handsome Stranger?”

“I’m not insinuating anything, Handsome Stranger Number Two.”

“Would you- oh sorry,” The guys stops talking as Harry’s phone starts ringing. He waves a hand dismissively as Harry throws him an apologetic look and answers the call.

 _“’Ello?”_ He answers, even though his signal is rubbish and the call is very disjointed and choppy. _“Yeah, I’m waiting now… I’ll be there in about, dunno, half hour…. Look babe I can’t hear you, I’m going. Bye Nicholas!”_

As he presses the red button he looks back up to see that the man has turned away again. “Sorry, it’s just… ha, it’s just Nick.” Harry says with a soft giggle as another Snap from Nick comes in. It doesn’t even occur to him that this guy doesn’t know who ‘Nick’ is.

“He sounds... nice?” The guy says timidly, shoving his hands into his pockets and turning away a fraction. His shoulders appear to droop and Harry’s fond smile disappears immediately, for some reason.

“He’s just a friend." Harry says quickly, for some reason. God, he was just talking about his bombed first date, why should talking about Nick feel any different? Hello, he didn't even know this... lovely person a few moments ago! Regardless, the verbal diarrhoea keeps on coming. "He's like, my oldest friend actually." _Why did he say that so damn panicked?_ The guy doesn't respond, just nods quizzically, and Harry still can't shut up. “He’s like, the only one who ever texts me. Apart from me mum. But she’s always sending blank messages and pocket dialling me, daft mare, I should really-”

“You could have my number, if you want?” The man interrupts, saving Harry from himself. “If you ever feel like speakin' to someone new?”

“Is this your big Technique?” Harry asks, shimmying his hips as he says 'technique', because yeah.

“It might be,” The guys replies softly. “Is it working?”

“Why don’t you find out? Put your number in my phone.” Harry hands his phone to this beautiful stranger, hoping for a nanosecond that he doesn’t make a run for it with his phone.

He doesn't. And his name is Louis. Louis with the train emoji next to it, just for clarification, and Harry finds himself swooning over the simplest, quirkiest little action.

“Louis.” He tests the name out on his tongue. It sounds good. “Lou. Louis. Lou.”

“Better than Trainboy, eh?” Louis laughs, slapping a delicate hand against his thigh. “I do have one question though. One serious question, of the utmost importance.”

“What?” Harry asks, eyebrows knotting together in confusion. He waits with baited breath as Louis creases into a giggle that reaches all the way to those beautiful eyes.

“What is your name, Dreamboat?”

“Oh!” Harry barks out a laugh that echoes throughout the whole station. “Sorry, it’s Harry.”

“Hi, Sorry it’s Harry, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Louis holds out a hand, that Harry dutifully shakes. His own palms are warm and erring on the side of clammy, a combination of being shoved in his pockets and the thrill of whatever the hell has just happened to him. Louis’ own hand is cold in comparison.

“The pleasure’s all mine.” Harry says breathlessly, the end of the sentence swallowed up by the cacophonous arrival of the tube.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know if they have toilets in tube stations but they do in this story because HL needed some alone time!
> 
> Sorry for the spaced out formatting, I lost a lot of patience trying to get it right!

Over the course of their ten minute tube journey, Harry has learned more about Louis than he did in a whole hour and twenty five minutes with thingy from his date. And what’s more, his conversation with Louis is reciprocal, not one sided as it had been. If only his blind date could have been this man not that man.

 

As he had predicted, Louis’ accent is not local; Doncaster born and bred until he moved to the big city after uni and had never looked back. Though he and Nick had moved down from the North together all those years ago, it was still nice to hear a familiar accent. Louis was single, just turned 24 and the only boy in a sea of female siblings, definitely gay and definitely bloody gorgeous.

 

Of course, Harry didn’t need an encyclopaedia to work that last one out. By the time he disembarked, he’d left Louis with a promise of drinks one night, though he repeats over and over to himself on the ten minute dash to Nick’s that he should lower his expectations and not think too far into this.

 

Of course, that’s exactly what he doesn’t do.

 

“Why do you look so happy, I thought you said the date was a dud?” Nick asks, eyeing him sceptically as he grins down at his phone. “What’s that, a nude? Lemme see!”

 

“Shut up you dick, it’s not a nude!” Harry swats at Nick, who launches himself across the sofa to get an eye on Harry’s phone screen.

 

“What!” Nick shrieks theatrically. “Who’s number is that, I saw a number!”

 

“Just some guy I met.”

 

“What guy? Where? Gimme details you shit!”

 

“Ease off, Grim, one question at a time!” Harry takes a purposely long sip of his tea and fakes a yawn to annoy Nick further. He turns and looks at Nick, who is staring at him with wide eyes and bated breath. “What are you looking at me like that for?”

 

“Spill the beans, Styles.”

 

“There are no beans to spill yet, Grim.” Harry says, and it’s a pretty accurate representation of the truth. “He was there at the tube station when I was waiting just now, and we started talking.”

 

“Started talking?” Nick asks disbelievingly. “This is London, mate, not your local tearooms on Cheshire High Street. No-one just ‘starts talking’ unless they want drugs, money or sex.”

 

“Well…” Harry stifles a laugh as Nick’s face contorts with glee. “No, seriously. That’s what I thought but he was… nice, I dunno. He’s not local either, he’s from Doncaster.”

 

“Oooh, the rarest of rare sightings, a Northerner in London.” Nick says sarcastically. Harry liked to pretend like he was a fish out of water but he knew really he wasn’t anything special having emigrated down south from the north.

 

“He has my number, but I didn’t get to give him mine.”

 

“So it’s up to you to make the first move?” Nick says, furrowing his brow in concentration as he processes the information. “Balls in your court, H.”

 

“Yeah, thanks for that.” Harry takes another sip of tea. “Is there a ration on sugar in this place, by the way?”

 

“Shut up, if you don’t like it you make your own tea!” Nick exclaims, going to whack Harry’s arm but then thinking better of it when he considers the beverage going flying all over his sofa.

 

“I will next time!”

 

*

 

After much deliberation, Harry sends Louis a text the following afternoon. As far as Sunday’s go, it’s been okay so far. He’d ended up falling asleep under a scratchy blanket on Nick’s sofa, so hadn’t made it home until gone 2pm. He’d made food, he’d watched telly and he’d put a load of washing on. When he’d exhausted all of his options, he gets his neglected phone out of his coat pocket slung over the back of the door and scrolls through his contacts to the L’s.

 

_‘Hey, it’s Harry from last night. Here’s my number :)’_

 

For such a short message, it takes nearly ten minutes to draft. Louis’ reply was almost instantaneous and Harry's heart did a little flip as he read the response. They fell into a nice back and forth quite quickly.

 

Louis can’t do Friday night, it turns out, as he is going out for his best friend’s birthday drinks, but Thursday sounds good, and apparently Louis is quite the social drinker. Harry makes sure to clarify that Nick will be there too; he doesn’t want to give the wrong impression. Louis still seems keen so they leave it at that, sharing another conversation late on Tuesday evening, and Louis sends a long text on Wednesday afternoon comprising the typewriter and the ‘zzz’ emoji’s; explaining that he wanted the computer emoji but there didn’t seem to be one; and that if it wasn’t obvious already, he was very bored at work.

 

Harry, who had been just walking out the doors of the local radio station with Nick at the time, received many mocking’s from Nick for 1) nearly walking into a post, and 2) getting all doe-eyed over a text message. Harry proceeds to liven up Louis’ afternoon (Louis’ words exactly) by telling him all about the low-key cool job Nick had on radio and the stuff Harry got to sneak in and help with when the offices were quiet. Oh, and by the end of the day, Louis had started putting x’s on the end of his texts, which was another thing to add to the pile of reasons why Harry was so smiley all of the time.

 

 

~~~

 

 

Thursday day time crawls by because of the sheer anticipation of his evening plans. The first part of the morning is spent rattling round his flat, avoiding his house mates while trying to think of something to do. He spends a solid half an hour walking up and down the streets of the market, picking up absolutely nothing, before returning home to find it’s only four pm.

 

He’s got another three hours and forty-five minutes before he will have to leave, minus about half an hour for a shower and selection of an outfit, minus the ten minute walk to Nick’s flat, minus the two minutes its going to take to knock up a quick beans on toast and a cuppa.

 

His mum would always tell him to line his stomach properly before going out drinking but beans on toast is about his limit right now; a mixture of inexperience in the kitchen and fizzy, popping nerves and excitement in his belly.

 

*

 

He goes for comfort over style with his oversized grey jumper, skinny jeans and black Airmax. He wants to ask Nick if he looks okay but he’s not actually going to ask, so he lingers in Nick’s flat, slowly helping himself to a cup of tea and a few chocolate digestives in the hope that Nick will offer something up to him.

 

“Y’look like a lollipop with clown feet.” Nick says helpfully, expression completely dead as Harry pours them a mug each. Nick wears stonewash skinnies, tan Chelsea boots and a knitted cardigan himself.

 

“Thanks, Grim, really great.” Harry shoots him a look but is undeterred. “I’m not actually bothered what I look like, though.”

 

“I thought you liked this sort, Lewis or whatever his name is?”

 

“Louis.” Harry corrects, a flare of annoyance shooting through him. “I’ve met him for ten minutes; it’s a little too early for any of that yet.”

 

“Well, in that case I think you look great.” Nick says, though his words hold no conviction and Harry lobs the nearest cushion off the couch at him as punishment.

 

Harry does feel a tad under-dressed when he sees Louis again though, because the boy looks Godlike. His hair might just be his crowning glory; it had been slicked back of his face into a quiff when Harry had met him that night at the tube station but now it is sweeping across from the crown and a beautiful little strand of hair curls around his temple. Despite the sub-zero temperatures, he wears a black patterned t-shirt, denim shirt and black skinny jeans.

 

Harry ignores Nick’s subtle elbow in his side as he jumps up and greets Louis, a bit lively. They’d spent the majority of their first meeting sitting down so Harry hadn’t really had time to notice the height difference. It’s not massive but he notices the slight lift of Louis’ gaze as he lights up and bounds over.

 

“Looking slightly more rugged than the last time I saw you, mate.” Louis observes, and Nick cackles next to him. Louis holds out a hand politely. “Alright, mate? Louis.”

 

Nick shakes Louis’ hand gladly and turns back to Harry. “I told you, you were a bit casual.”

 

“Hey to be fair, I was more dressed up than usual last time. I had been on a date.” Harry says in his defence. He catches a slight flicker on Louis’ expression as he shuffles into the booth next to Nick. Okay, well Harry sits himself back down on his chair and ignores Nick kicking his shin under the table.

 

“Drinks?” Nick asks breezily, slapping his hands together and looking between the pair gleefully. they nod and bluster through their requests to Nick before he slopes off to the bar, not without a stupid glaring grin at Harry that he hopes Louis doesn't notice.

 

“So… you had a good week?” Louis asks first, and Harry feels relief wash over him. He never normally has problems with basic communication, a crowd hanging on his every move is usually his comfort zone, but there was something about this boy that had him all flustered and infantile in his being.

 

“Oh, yeah, quite good. Just work and that, really…” Harry trails off. God, he sounds boring. Maybe he is boring?

 

“Oh yeah, you’re a bit of a jack of all trades if I remember correctly?”

 

“Yeah, that’s right!” Harry beams, chuffed that Louis remembered. “I was at the music college three days this week. Normally it’s here and there but it was mostly there this week.”

 

“What do you do there? You’re barely out of college yourself!”

 

“I’m twenty one!” Harry cried indignantly, reeling over the cheeky tongue-between-his-teeth grin that Louis gave him as he pouted. "Very almost twenty two!"

 

He explains steadily how the whole music college thing came about; ex-student, friendly with the tutors, apprenticeship, unpaid placement, the lot. “I hope I’m not boring you.” He confesses as he peers up from a kink in the wooden table surface to see Louis gazing back vacantly.

 

“Not at all. It’s interesting. I wish I was working towards a dream not just working to pay my rent.”

 

“Do you not enjoy it then?” Harry asks, thinking about the office job Louis had briefly mentioned in passing last time.

 

“No!” Louis snorts, though he quickly calms again. “Well, it’s okay. I like the people. The works interesting enough but I’m not really Living the Dream, am I?”

 

“What is the dream? Superman? Wet T-Shirt Contest Judge? Billionaire Socialite?”

 

Louis’ crinkly old smile almost cracks his face as he giggles. “Well, those all sound great, but I really wanted to be an interior designer.”

 

“Wow!” Harry must admit he is surprised. “That’s so cool. What happened?”

 

“Oh, long story!” Louis says dismissively as Nick arrives back, expertly wielding three beers and a bag of ready salted. “Thank you, sir.”

 

*

 

With a beer down the hatch and good headway made on round number two, conversation flows a little easier and it’s actually a good night. Harry won’t admit it but having Nick there makes it a lot easier; his flamboyant, easy going humour bounces off Louis’ own quick wit nicely and they seem to be getting on grand. A few times when Harry has been mid-sentence he’s caught Louis looking at him intently, seemingly soaking up every word and it takes all his strength not to veer off course and forget what he is saying.

 

"…and when I looked up he was staring at me, so I just….” Harry catches Louis’ eye and falters briefly. “I had to get out of there so I just got up and walked off and no one has mentioned it since.”

 

“You were lucky you didn’t get us both kicked off the gig!” Nick supplies, elbowing Harry in the arm to keep him in the here and now.

 

“So I still can’t believe they just let a reprobate like you wander the offices of a national radio station!” Louis says, his head tilted to the side and grin growing as Harry gapes at him, scandalised. Nick continues to bark out his stupid laugh and Harry feels

quite ganged up on.

 

“Reprobate!?” He squeaks, clutching a theatrical hand to his chest. “I’m a very hard worker!”

 

“I’ve never seen you working at the radio, just pissing about on the machines!”

 

“I’ve done the jingle for the phone in quiz once!” Harry points out indignantly, staring wide eyed at Nick and then sneaking a look at Louis who is still so fond and smiley in his frozen state.

 

“Oooh, well that is some claim to fame, I’m sure our Louis is right impressed!” Nick says, and Harry feels himself immediately blush. He’s not keen on the implication Nick is giving off but Louis doesn’t seem to flinch so maybe he should just brush it off.

 

“It is very impressive,” Louis leans over the table to brush a hand over Harry’s clenched fist. “I can only dream of pressing buttons for the radio.”

 

“What do you do, Louis?” Nick asks. Louis proceeds to regale them with stories from his office; a behind the scene glimpse at the life of an Inpatient coordinator. They learn that Louis is the only guy in the admin offices, other than the medical directors, Consultants and managers, so has plenty of self-confessed ‘work mums’ to keep him in check. His work mainly involves organising the admissions for surgery and planning the patient lists, which he assures Harry isn’t as interesting or high-tech as it sounds.

 

“It never even occurred to me that hospitals had clerical staff!” Nick says freely, and although Harry kicks his ankle under the table, Louis nods enthusiastically and continues.

 

“I know, neither did I before I got me job! You just think of doctors, nurses, the important people like canteen workers, but without admin the whole thing really would fall to pieces!”

 

“So you really are Superman then?” Harry says, referring back to his earlier joke.

 

“Well, I wouldn’t like to say that!”

 

“That old dear seems to think quite highly of you, Jean did you say?”

 

“Yep, old Jeanie.” Louis sighs wistfully.  “They’re great girls. Well, I say girls. It’s an okay job, I suppose.”

 

Louis goes to the bar for the next round, offering to get in a sharing platter of chicken wings and nachos, which Nick snaps up in a heartbeat.

 

“Is it going’ well, ‘en? Do you like him?” Nick asks as soon as Louis is out of earshot.

 

“Of course I like him but this isn’t a date, Nicholas!”

 

“What! Why not?”

 

“Uhh, maybe because you’re here?” Harry points out, squinting at Nick to see if there is actually any life between his ears or not.

 

“What? Just call me Cilla Black, I’m a matchmaker!”

 

“I met him on my own merit, I don’t think that counts, Grim.”

 

“Semantics!”  Harry bats him away to ‘shut up’ as Louis comes back with the drinks. Successfully managing not to spill a single drop, he places one of three identical beers down in front of each place setting.

 

“Foods on its way!” He says as he plops down onto the bench with a harrumph. “What we talkin’ about now then?”

 

  
_Shut up Nick,_ Harry thinks as Nick picks up his beer, leaving Harry to field the question thank God. “Oh, nothing much, just this an’ that. So who’s this friend you’re going out with tomorrow? Anyone special?” God, that sounds so suggestive, stupid Harry!

 

“Oh, yeah Zayn! It’s his birthday Saturday but he’s takin' his missus away for the weekend so we’ve gotta do drinks Friday. Probably end up in some horrible, sticky, shiny place surrounded by half naked girls, the usual night out with The Straights.”

 

“The Straights!” Nick snorts, completely and utterly enamoured with Louis’ story.

 

“Sorry, it’s just what I call my mates. It’s only meant to be friendly. They’re all coupled up so it’s just little old me by the end of the night.”

 

“Well, we’ll ‘ave to out a stop to that won’t we Haz?” Nick asks gleefully, nudging Harry who suddenly feels his heart swell to as big as a house and his chest won’t contain it any more. He just smiles, unable to form an answer, and waits for the conversation to move on. Louis continues talking about his friends for a moment, peopel called Niall and Liam and their respective girlfriends, and the aforementioned Zayn and Perrie, who was originally Louis’ best girl friend before meeting Louis’ best boy friend and becoming best fiancés. 

 

"That's kinda like how we met isn't it, Hazza!" Nick says, tactfully, and Harry definitely doesn't miss the look of confused horror that crosses Louis' face.

 

"You two? Wh- when... what?!"

 

" _No!_ " Harry clips quickly. "It wasn't like that, he means that he was my big sister Gemma's best mate before he was my mate. That... never happened! Not a chance!"

 

"All right, mate, no need to get so defensive about it, God!" Nick scowls. Louis seems placated quite easily and Harry is glad to move on. It doesn’t seem like any topic is off limits with Louis, like he has been part of Harry’s life for years not days. When the waitress places down their platters of food, way too much for three people, Harry surveys the pieces closely.

 

“Many, many calories are to be consumed tonight, Hazza!” Nick says, as if Harry didn't already know that.

 

“I know, that’s just what I was thinking…”

 

“You’re not one of these celery and hummus types, are ya?” Louis asks, eyeing him suspiciously like he’s just grown an extra head.

 

“No!” Harry cries defensively, he just likes to keep in control. There aren’t many things in life you can control but what you put into your body is one of them. “I’m fine, I’m fun, I’m down for anything!”

 

Nick snorts loudly at him, and a heated blush in his cheeks seems to be a permanent fixture for Harry now. “You didn’t have to order all this Lou, it’s very kind.”

 

“I know, but I wanted to. I was getting hungry anyway, I’m a growing boy, I need my food!”

 

“Oh that’s a relief, I thought you were gonna say you were done growing!” Nick says shamelessly, squawking with laughter as Harry yelps and Louis’ eyes bulge endearingly.

 

“Sorry, we can’t all be six foot plus like you!” Louis fires back with a laugh, before turning to a giggling Harry. “You’re not much better, Curls, I’m the new midget of the group but I can accept that. The question is can you?”

 

“Of course I can!” Harry says, a little too earnestly, a little too un-jokingly, and Louis’ blue gaze holds him for a lovely moment until Nick’s stupid, sing-song voice pipes up again.

 

“I’m like a majestic sunflower!” He shrills, holding his arms up above his heads and swaying in imaginary wind.

 

“Are you supposed to be a sunflower? I thought you were just a twat.” Harry says, Nick shooting him A Look.

 

“Shut up and eat your food, Harold, before I kill you off.”

 

“Harold?” Louis asks with interest. “Nice name.”

 

“It’s not real.” Harry says quickly. “Nicholas, here, thinks he’s funny. It’s just Harry though.”

 

“It’s okay, some people think it’s funny to call me Lewis. I just let ‘em get on with it. Small things amuse small minds.” Louis quips, waiting for Nick to react.

 

“Oi!” Nick shrieks when it sinks in what Louis had said. “You can go off people, you know!”

 

“You’re something else, Lou, you really are!” Harry says dreamily as he laughs, without really thinking. He contemplatively reaches out for a smaller chicken strip, dipping it in sweet chilli sauce. 

Louis excuses himself again to the toilets, leaving Harry free to smack Nick in the thigh and hiss at him, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

 

“Oh, please, don’t give me that look, he’s totally into you!”

 

“If you’d let me get a word in edgeways I might find out for m’self!” Harry says curtly, crossing his arms dramatically for effect.

 

“I’m helping you along, bringing you out of your shell. He’s hanging on your every word, mate, whether you can notice it or not!” Nick stabs another triangular snack into the salsa dip and crunches grotesquely with his mouth open.

 

“It seems like you’re quite fond of him yourself!” Harry points out indignantly. He knows Louis is a million miles away from Nick’s type, but he can’t seem to shut his mouth.

 

“Oh, come off it mate!” Nick cries, holding out his fingers to rattle off a check list. “Skinny jeans – check, good sense of humour – check. Human – check. That’s about where the similarities between Louis and ‘my type’ end. You’ve got this in the bag, just don’t tit it up like you did with George!”

 

“Urgh, don’t mention that name, its sullied forever now!” The less said about the last man Harry had a crush on, the better.

 

“What you two on about?” Louis re-appears too soon.

 

“Nothing!” Harry insists before Nick can open his stupid mouth again. Luckily, when Harry turns to Nick, he’s filling his mouth with cheesy tortilla chips and salsa dip again instead of running it with Harry’s deepest and darkest secrets, so that’s a relief.

 

They chat for the rest of the evening, through two more pints, a round of rainbow shots and Harry comes to find that he actually quite likes junk food and copious amounts of alcohol once in a while.

 

By the time it’s going home time his steps feel light and floaty underfoot as Louis’ hand firmly in the small of his back leads him up the steps and out onto the street. It had rained since they’d been inside and the air was damp and aromatic, still chilly like the arctic as they begin trying to navigate their way to the tube station.

 

Nick remains a few steps ahead, tiptoeing along the pavement avoiding the lines between the slabs like an pre-schooler would do.

 

“Look at that silly oaf!” Harry says softly under his breath as they watch him.

 

“He seems like a good bloke. You been friends long?”

 

“Yeah, about eight years now. As you know, he was my big sisters friend. I asked him for a little bit of advice after Gem’s told me he was gay, and it just evolved from there really. We became mates, moved down ‘ere together and the rest is history!”

 

“How old is he?”

 

“Twenty eight, if you can believe that!” Harry muses, pausing to watch Nick move to the edge of the pavement and walk along the kerb like a balance beam. “Twenty eight going on five!”

 

“It must be nice to have like-minded friends. Mine try their best but I don’t think they totally get the whole gay thing. Why, I don’t know, I've been out since I was fifteen, it’s not like its news, but… y’know?”

 

Harry nods sadly. He wishes he could have met Louis years ago now. Taken him to Pride and clubbing in the gay clubs; long weekends in Manchester and curling up against a tree trunk on a ratty old blanket eating pot brownies and laughing at seagulls.

 

“Deja-vu!” Louis says brightly as they begin the descent into the same tube station they met in. Nick is waiting patiently at the bottom of the steps as they make their way down, lost in each other and in conversation.

 

“You two saddos wait here, I'm going to find the loo. Don’t let the tube go without me!” Nick continues to speak as he starts to wander off. Harry shakes his head and turns back to Louis who has his bottom lip caught between his teeth contemplatively. Harry would either like to throw himself on the tracks or throw himself at Louis, there is no other option.

 

“Well, this has been a good night.”

 

“Shame it has to end really.” Louis says. “You staying at Nick’s tonight?”

 

“Yeah, might as well. My flatmates are a bit knobby.” Harry says flatly, and Louis exhales sharply out of his nose.

 

“You’re funny.” He says, hip-checking Harry lazily.

 

“I’ve had a lovely evening. Best for a long time.”

 

“Yeah?” Louis asks, smiling through his eyes and entire face. Silence loiters a moment before Louis steps in a bit closer and attaches a gentle hand to Harry’s waist. “Me too.”

 

“We should do it again some time…” Harry utters, the deep, gravelly hum of his tone too stark and too pronounced for the intimacy that he wishes he could award this situation.

 

“Maybe just the two of us?” Louis says, equally as softly, and Harry nods immediately. “Not that I don’t think Nick is great, but… I can think of someone I like more.”

 

The tips of their noses are mere inches apart now as Harry has sub-consciously bowed his head somewhat to meet Louis who has extended himself up onto his tiptoes slightly.

 

“Can I kiss you?” Louis continues, his whispery words almost lost in the echoic station. Again, Harry can only nod, no words available to him. Louis’ lips are soft like angel’s pillows, whatever they are. His golden scruff tickles against Harry’s bare face, a lovely contrast between soft and sharp, like a lightning bolt through a cloud.

 

He presses his lips against Harry’s with insistence but he doesn’t push, just massages their lips together before pulling back and pressing in three more soft, buttery kisses into Harry’s mouth, his hand on his hip a welcome presence that Harry wants to keep forever.

 

“Nice kisser, I thought you would be.” Louis says softly through a broad grin as he steps away and shies his cheek into his shoulder. Harry can only smile like a mad man, his lips are tingling from the oh so gentle kisses.

 

Nick is whistling what sounds like ‘Starships’ by Nicki Minaj as he returns, and Harry is unsure whether he saw the kiss or not. He certainly doesn’t say anything when he returns, but he stands off to the side slightly with his phone in his hands, staring down at the screen contently.

 

“This is us,” Louis says, motioning down the tunnel in the direction of the distant chug of a  locomotive approaching.

 

They pile on as a load of people pile off; it’s pretty quiet and Harry and Louis get a seat together while Nick locates himself opposite. Conversation isn’t as free flowing out in the open, but it’s comfortable and the way their legs touch as they sit side by side has Harry wanting to run home and scribble every single detail he can remember about Louis into his journal.

 

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Harry asks for the third time as Louis sets about getting ready to get off; shoving his phone in his pocket and smoothing down his hair, using his reflection in the window opposite as a mirror.

 

“Yes, Harry, I’m sure. It’s literally a two minute walk from the station.”

 

“Okay, well, be safe. Thanks again for tonight.” Harry says, unsure of how to end their formal association.

 

“Thank you,” Louis says, eyes flicking over to Nick also. “I’ll text you, okay, Harry? Let you know I got in okay.”

 

“Yes, please do.” Harry nods solemnly and watches as Louis gets to his feet. He lingers a moment to place a warm hand on his shoulder, before stepping towards the double doors. The vehicle starts losing momentum as they get nearer to the station and the pitch black hurtling past soon becomes light as they pull in to the station. Louis steps off the train with a little wave and disappears, Harry finding himself quite unable to watch the man go.

 

When he turns to Nick, he is smiling smugly at him, not saying a word.

 

“Oh, do shut up!” Harry sighs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for first kisses.  
> Yay for Gryles.  
> Yay for fluff.  
> I hope you enjoyed!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More are-they-or-aren’t-they dates, hopefully cute boys falling for each other and hopefully nice back-and-forth banter/friendship between Nick and Harry. Brief, mild smut warning.  
> Please enjoy.
> 
> I think there will just be the one chapter to follow after this.

  
After that night, Louis becomes a regular presence in Harry’s life via the medium of text and Snapchat, and not a day goes by that they don’t speak. On the Friday night after their date that wasn’t really a date, Harry receives a slightly blurry, pink-cheeked, cheesy grinning selfie of Louis with the Snapchat flower crown filter, obviously taken in some toilets. He insists he is not drunk, but the garbled messages that come through at 3am say otherwise.

Louis is largely absent throughout Saturday and Sunday, apparently very hungover, save for a few short messages in the evening time.

It’s a week later, on a particularly overcast Sunday morning that Louis suggests a late breakfast about 11am. It’s been nine whole days since Harry last saw Louis so he jumps at the chance. He arrives first at the pub, Louis’ last text three minutes ago says he is ten minutes away, so he takes a booth table in the corner and sticks his nose in the menu, desperate not to look like he’s just sitting waiting, or worse still, like he’s been stood up.

Louis announces his arrival by prodding a finger at the A3 sized menu Harry has held up in front of him. When Harry peers up he looks radiant. His hair is pushed back off his forehead and enveloped entirely in a dark grey beanie, and as he wriggles out of his jacket he’s wearing a dark purpley-grey speckled t-shirt and his staple black skinny jeans. Harry is glad he made a bit more effort this time and went for a checked shirt and black jeans himself.

Louis chatters brightly whilst they peruse the menu, though Harry has already got his choices narrowed down to two possible dishes. Louis flits between both sides of the menu before declaring he’s made up his mind and he will go to the bar to order.

Harry can’t help but watch as the older man waits at the bar. He rests on his arms on the bar and sways his hips lazily back and forth until the waitress appears at the till, when he steps up onto the footrest for better vantage. Harry’s affectionate smile is just dying down as Louis returns with their teas.

“What you grinning at?” Louis asks, smiling himself as he carefully sets down two black teas and tosses a handful of sugar, sweetener and milk pods down out of his pocket. “Didn’t know how you like it so I got it all!”

“Thanks,” Harry reaches over and picks up three of the milks and one sweetener, before deciding against it and putting it back down.

“Sweet enough already?” Louis asks with a grin as he slides along the booth to the corner, tucking one leg under the other and sitting forward on his elbows.

“Somethin’ like that,” Harry nods, watching as Louis pours just one milk into his tea and three sugars.

They chat easily until their food comes, sharing stories about their weeks and Louis almost has apoplexy when Harry let it slip that his birthday is coming up in less than two weeks and this was, quote: "the first time he’s thought to mention it!"

A full English is placed down in front of Louis and Harry watches with bemused joy as he takes a half a slice of toast, balances a slither of fried egg white, a piece of bacon and a spoonful of beans atop it, folds it over into a breakfast calzone of sorts and dips it in the yolk of his egg before scoffing the lot in one go. If Harry was that sort of person, his mind would travel to dirty depths and imagine what else Louis could fit in his mouth in one go, but he was not that sort of person. Often.

In the time he has been staring, Louis has looked up at him, finished his mouthful and is smiling coyly. “That was quite the combo.” Harry says hoarsely, his own poached eggs on toast looking decidedly less delicious than Louis’ grease-fest, but c’est la vie.

Louis groans theatrically when he slices through the middle of a sausage and shoves it in his mouth, and Harry has to look over his shoulder, embarrassed, but he giggles all the same. “Are you ashamed of me, young Harry?”

“Nope, just… never mind!” Harry trails off as Louis polishes off the other half of the sausage, dipped this time in beans juice.

Harry finishes his poached eggs with much more decorum than his counterpart, clunking his knife and fork down on the empty plate just as his phone goes. Louis peers over but continues eating.

“Sorry, it’s just Nick,” Harry explains as he fights to get his phone out his restrictive pocket, cursing the old man Grimshaw in his mind. “I’ll just text him back and then tell him to get lost.”  
  
“What’s he saying?” Louis asks as Harry exhales a laugh through his nose.

“Nothin’, he just didn’t believe you uh, that we were here together.” Nick’s actual words had been ‘can’t believe you got a second date’ but Harry didn’t want to say 'date' just yet.

“What’s his Snap, lemme add him!” Louis insists, shuffling his bum across his side of the booth and clambering in next to Harry.

“It’s ‘hiyagrimmy’.” Harry says, and Louis snorts but types furiously away into his phone. Promptly, he switches to front camera and tucks in close by Harry’s side.

“Pose!” he instructs and Harry obliges, throwing his arm around Louis’ shoulder, holding up two fingers and pulling a wide, teeth-bearing grin as Louis opens his mouth wide and throws up a peace sign too. Louis snaps them, sans filter thank God, and sends it directly to Nick with the caption ‘wish you were here’.

Neither of them pays any attention to their phones vibrating with Nick’s replies, too lost in conversation. Harry’s arm is still around Louis’ shoulder, slightly more relaxed and propped up on the back of the seat now, but it’s there nonetheless and Louis’ body has shifted over time to be curled in around Harry’s. The very edge of his shoulder rests against Harry’s chest as they continue to share anecdotes and laugh at Harry’s God awful jokes.

“How’s the rest of your week looking?” Harry asks, pressing to arrange another get together. He obviously can’t call it a date, so ‘get together’ will have to suffice.

“Urgh, work, work and more work.” Louis says, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “Weekly Skype call with my mum and that lot on Thursday evening. Oh, and hot date with the ironing on Monday, actually, I forgot about that.”

Louis strains his neck awkwardly to look up at Harry at that moment, and the look on Harry’s face must be a good one because instinctively, Louis leans in and presses a soft, chaste kiss to his lips. He giggles bashfully as they separate. “I’m sorry I’ve just wanted to do that for like, half an hour now.”

“It’s okay.” Harry replies softly, and Louis’ smile grows. He relaxes back into the crook of Harry’s arm, one leg drawn up, and gets his phone back out again. He rests his arms on his knees and idly snaps pictures on the front camera, despite Harry’s half-hearted protests.

“I need a picture to send to me mum!” Louis tells him, and Harry sees his face projected in the phone screen is desperately earnest for a moment until he bursts out laughing. “I’m joking! I just like taking pictures.”

“Can I have another kiss?” Harry says after a brief pause. Louis puts his legs down and shuffles up so he is sat up straight. He twists his upper body so they’re comfortably facing into each other and he tilts his head to the right slightly, leaning in to give what is perhaps the softest kiss Harry has ever received.

The fact that Louis tastes like strong tea and fried food is the furthest thing from Harry’s mind as the kiss deepens and Louis’ tongue slips past his lips, despite the fact they’re in a public setting. Harry can’t find it in himself to care as the last thing he sees before he closes his eyes is an elderly couple sat at a round table opposite them look away in abrupt horror.

*

It is Louis’ idea to walk instead of head for the tube; it’s a crisp clear afternoon despite being cold enough to freeze water, but Harry mentally calculates that if they walk it will take longer and thus he will have more time with Louis.

He wonders briefly if he could or should hold Louis’ hand; like, they've already kissed, and holding hands is a step backwards from kissing, but he’s still not sure if it is right or not. Their arms brush together periodically as the odd step is misdirected, and Harry supposes that’s good enough.

By the time they meet the metaphorical fork in the road where they have to go in their separate directions, Harry has a virtual stack of new information about Louis as big as a house that he wants to absorb and bask in forever.

He grins broadly, drunk on Louis, as Nick swings the door open. Once he has made himself a cup of tea, he takes up position on Nick’s sofa and garbles at him at a rate of knots, cradling the cup that eventually goes cold in its quest to be consumed. He holds it up for Nick to take and warm up in the microwave, which the older man is reluctant to do at first but eventually he takes the mug and skulks into the kitchen.

Harry reclines sideways across Nick’s sofa, wrapped tightly like a sausage roll in a blanket and one of Nick’s hoodies. Nick is watching the EastEnders omnibus and Harry momentarily pines for a Sunday afternoon at home with his mums roast dinner and a nice film. His poached eggs from earlier don’t hold much weight after an hour or so, and he bugs Nick until he relents and cooks him a cheese and ham toastie.

Early on Monday morning, Louis sends him a Snap of rows and rows of birthday cakes in Tesco Express, before pulling out a very pink cake shaped like a handbag and asking if that would be a good choice. Rolling his eyes, he sends him a text requesting a very specific cake.  
  
Harry’s heart is in his mouth when Louis invites him round to his flat after work on Wednesday evening; the promise of no room mates and a takeaway music to Harry’s ears as he wishes the day away waiting for it to be 6.30pm so he can go to Louis’.  
  
It’s a slow day for him; his only option for entertainment is to tag along with Nick to the radio station. He annoys Nick with constant chatter between songs, catching him the moment he clicks off the air.  
  
“Harold, I love you, but please do shut up!” Nick eventually says, effectively stopping Harry mid-sentence yapping about what he should wear and whether he should ask ahead of time what type of takeaway the takeaway is going to be.

Harry’s mouth stays agape as he bulges his eyes and squeals deep in his throat in mock-surprise. “Shut up?” He finally utters. “Shut up? I am hurt, Nicholas.”

“Stop calling me Nicholas.”

“Stop calling me Harold, then.” Harry counteracts, before adding under his breath, “At least Nicholas is actually your name.”  
  
“I could call you a lot worse than Harold, you bugger.” Nick says with venom, though a tickling smile plays on the corners of his lips and he has to look away. “Shut up now, the song’s almost finished!”

Harry watches as the countdown to the song finishing ticks away, the milliseconds flashing past quicker than he can read and the seconds diminishing quickly. He listens half-heartedly as Nick blabbers away into his microphone, pressing buttons every few seconds and making stupid jokes that Harry has already heard before.

Nick snorts loudly at him when Kate the newsreader presses a gentle hand to his shoulder, causing him to jump half out of his skin. Luckily, their mics are off and a song is playing because Harry’s shriek and expletive mutterings under his breath would likely get Nick fired and thus Harry expelled from the face of the Earth.

“Jesus, Kate, don’t creep up on me like that!”

“Our Harry’s got a hot date tonight!”

“Shut up, Nick!” Harry hisses, feeling his cheeks flush.

“Whaddaya mean, shut up? You’ve not stopped goin’ on about it since you got here!”  
  
Kate had once mistaken Nick and Harry for a couple when Nick first started bringing Harry to the station with him. Nick had howled with laughter for ten minutes and eventually corrected her, and she’d never asked about his romantic life again.  
  
“Don’t call it a date!” Harry mutters, feeling foolish, worried that somehow Louis can hear him making a presumptive idiot out of himself and is mentally plotting the quickest and easiest way to rid himself of Harry forever.  
  
“C’mon, Haz, you’ve been for drinks with this lad, for breakfast with this lad, you’re phone is constantly lit up with his name, just ‘cuz there’s been no official talk doesn’t mean anything.”  
  
“Well, there has been no official talk and I wish you’d drop it!”  
  
“What do you reckon, K-Dawg, boyfriend or not boyfriend?”

“Sounds like boyfriend to me, Grim.”  
  
“We are not having this discussion.” Harry says, crossing his arms across his chest and sinking back into his spinning office chair. "And anyway, its long proven that you're a terrible judge of relationships. Or not relationships, as the cases have been!"

“Have you kissed?” Kate asks anyway, ignoring Harry's pet lip.

“I said we’re not having this discussion!”

“Yes they have.” Nick answers for him. “Multiple times.”  
  
“Oooh!” Kate croons loudly, drawing even more embarrassment into Harry’s cheeks as they continue to tease him. “Well, that definitely sounds like a boyfriend to me!”

Thankfully, the last song of Nick’s show draws to a close and all he has to do is play the intro to the news and then hand over to Kate for the news, showbiz and weather.

Adverts and a song fill the seven minute interval while Nick hands over to the drive time hosts, Jess and Ben. Nick waves largely at Kate in a blatant attempt to distract her as she rattles off a brief overview of the headlines, before they finally escape the studio and emerge into the air conditioned corridors.

“What time’ve you gotta be there?” Nick asks, somewhat calmer now and maybe slightly genuinely interested.

“Half six he said. Finishes work at 5 so time to get home and shower and all that.” Harry says, dwindling off slightly at the end; he’s said too much again, as per usual.

“Tell me again what you’re gonna wear?” Nick asks earnestly as they pass through the security-coded double doors into the canteen. “Get that table over there!”

Harry follows Nick’s pointed finger over to their normal table in the far right nearest the window, with its perfect view of the smoking shelter and taxi ranks. The mid-afternoon January sun feels strong through the glass but the rustle of the bare-bones trees tells another story and Harry is glad to be inside. His mind wanders to cuddling up to Louis on what he hopes will be a comfy sofa, plates of delicious, unhealthy fried food balanced on their knees and something good on the TV.

“Haz, pay attention love!” Nick snaps his fingers in front of Harry’s face, bringing him back to reality.

“Oh, sorry, well jeans and I’m not sure which top. What do you think?”

“Well, you obviously wanna be casual but smart. Smart-casual.”

“Smasual?” Harry suggests, and Nick’s face creases into lines as he laughs.

“Yes, exactly that!” Nick waves over Audrey, his favourite waitress, and although it isn’t waitress service he manages to get two teas brought to their table. Harry shakes his head despicably as Audrey reluctantly wanders over to the tea urn, but Nick simply holds up his hands as if he doesn’t know what he’s done wrong.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” Harry mutters as Audrey brings their drinks over. “Thank you so much, Audrey.”

“Anyway, what are you gonna wear? Round neck, V-neck, polo shirt… checked shirt?”

“Nah, wore one of those last time.” Harry comments as he pours from the little jug of milk into his tea. “I was thinking maybe the black one? Basic, y’know?”

“I can’t believe you’re putting this much thought into it!” Nick muses, picking up the small menu that is lodged between the salt and pepper shakers. “Are you the same boy that used to wear Nickelback t-shirts and baggy jeans with chains and purple high-tops?”

Harry cringes at the memory of his mid-teens fashion crises. The oversized purple shoes had been a staple in his wardrobe for most of years nine and ten, before he’d seen the light and swapped them for much more understated black Converse and skinny jeans. “Can we stop with the trip down memory lane and focus on the matter at hand please?”

“Sorry, yeah well black is always a safe bet.” Nick deliberates as he peers at the menu one last time before putting it back with a look of disdain. “Bit boring though.”

He'd been almost one hundred percent set on his favourite black V-neck t-shirt until Nick had said that. “What do you mean, boring? Nick, I'm having a crisis here! Don’t throw words like boring at me, I thought you said black was safe?  
  
“Yeah, well safe… boring. Is there much difference?”

“Oh shit,” Harry slumps back in his seat, the rickety old plastic keening under the movement. “I’m gonna have to re-think this whole thing now aren’t I?”

“Why don’t you ask him what he’s wearing?”

“Oh my God, shut up Nick, I can’t do that can I? Don’t be bloody stupid." Nick giggles, indicating he knew how unhelpful his suggestion was. “I need to go home and chose. Thanks for the tea!”

At home, he spends ten minutes trying to shake off his room mate before disappearing into his room to assess and closely scrutinise every t-shirt and shirt he has ever owned. Changing from one pair of skinny black jeans to another, he stands shirtless in front of the mirrored doors debating between the previous first choice black V-neck and a soft, brushed cotton dark grey shirt.

*

Eventually, he ends up going for the shirt and the V-neck, layering up and rolling over the sleeves of the shirt in a last minute decision on the tube. Bundled up in his navy pea coat and grey scarf, the warmth of Louis’ flat hits him like a punch when Louis opens the door.

“Hi!” Louis throws the door open looking a little out of breath, like he has ran to do the door or something. “Sorry! I’m not dressed, mad rush, just got in!”

The short, unformed sentences continue as Louis ushers Harry inside and gestures towards the sofa.

Harry cautiously steps over the threshold, watching his little whirlwind move about the place. Louis’ flat is dimly lit and warm and there are pot plants and throw blankets everywhere and it feels just like home and everything Harry had hoped for and more.

Louis, contrary to his statement, is dressed. He’s still in his work clothes, presumably, and he looks almost criminal in grey slim fit trousers that cling around his hips and bum, and a soft baby blue shirt that he’d started to unbutton; it’s a good job Harry doesn't work with Louis because he probably would never get any work done.

“I’d give you the guided tour but there’s really not much to see.” Louis says as he shows Harry where he can throw his coat and scarf. Coat pegs are clearly not a thing in this place, and Harry likes that. “Sit down, I’ll be back in a second, just gotta change!”

Louis scuttles off down the hall and away, leaving Harry to gather his thoughts now the initial getting here and getting through the door is out of the way. He takes a moment before sitting down to peer at some of the photos on the white painted exposed brick wall.

Three guys, one of which is easily identifiable as Louis, take stage in a mix of different photos from varying points in time. There’s a baby-faced, sharply dressed and presumably teenaged Louis with his arms thrown around the other two, a Louis and the darker skinned guy from the group photo aged about ten or so in some sort of restaurant, and a picture of a football team dressed in red and white striped kits. Harry only has time to pick out Louis from the back row before the man himself is scuttling back down the hall towards him.

“Ah, admiring El Gallery Del Tomlinson, eh?” Louis smiles sheepishly as he screeches to a halt next to Harry. He’s now wearing indigo skinny jeans and a maroon coloured jumper rolled up to his elbows. If Harry knew more about fabrics, he might know what this was, but it looked soft like baby skin and that was all that mattered. They settle down on the sofa together. Louis goes to shuffle back into the plush, cushiony sofa but suddenly springs up again like a jack in the box. “Wait, drink?”

“Uh, yeah please, what you having?”

“Beer?” Louis calls; he’s already in the kitchen peering into the fridge.

“Don’t you have work tomorrow?” Harry calls back, surprised at Louis’ suggestion.

Louis is back in the living room and clutching two beers when he responds, despite the fact that Harry hadn’t confirmed nor denied wanting a beer. “I start late tomorrow, two ‘til eight, so I’m sure one or two drinks won’t hurt.”

Harry considers this is probably true, Louis can apparently hold his drink very well, so he shrugs and accepts a drink.

They wind up talking about Nick, because it’s not like Harry’s life doesn’t revolve around Nick ninety percent of the time anyway. Harry tells him about going to the radio today and accosting Audrey the tea lady and nearly having a heart attack when Kate crept up on him. He leaves out the discussions about their romantic life, or whatever this thing they've got is called.

“He seems like such a bugger, but you seem so sensible.” Louis muses, and Harry supposes he and Nick are quite different. His mum had pointed out that over the years Nick had rubbed off on Harry in a way that wasn’t always desirable, and when he was drinking Harry could be a bit of an idiot, but he’d never been on Nick’s level.

“I guess opposites attract.” Harry says without thinking. Louis blanches momentarily, his eyes widening a bit before he opens his mouth and stammers out a fractured sentence.

“Oh, uh, well, yeah I guess.”

Realising the implication of what he’d said, Harry’s own face drains of colour as he desperately tries to backtrack and clarify. “I didn’t mean like that! No, not like that, that. I…”

“Any plans for the big two-two, then?” Louis, who now has his beer bottle slotted between his thighs rather suggestively, claps his hands briskly and changes the subject, seemingly able to recover situations much faster than Harry himself.

Harry nods graciously, thankful to be saved from digging himself in any deeper. Remembering Louis’ Snap from the beginning of the week, his eyes light up. “Well, I’ll be sitting by the door all day waitin’ for me birthday cake, that’s for sure!”

“Ah yes, don’t worry I haven’t forgotten.” Louis returns easily, tilting his head back with a stilled laugh. "I was only in the shops for a Red Bull, then I saw the cakes. They had loads. I thought the Peppa Pig one was quite you."

"The Very Hungry Caterpillar more like."

"That's me!" Louis chuckles, inching himself forward to slap Harry's thigh.

“Should we order something, God knows how long delivery’ll take.” Harry says, and Louis promptly gets his phone from the coffee table. He scrolls to the Just Eat app. They bicker light-heartedly over what the best choice is, before finally settling on a veritable feast of dishes that Louis will not let Harry pay for.

“No, this was my idea and you’re my guest, put your sodding card away!” Louis had snapped as Harry tried to push his debit card under Louis’ nose when it came time to pay.

In typical London fashion, it’s getting on for an hour before the food arrives. Louis shares an easy back and forth with the delivery guy and Harry has to wonder if there’s anyone this guy meets that doesn't immediately like him.

They eat with plates balanced on their knees, a fluffy brown blanket over their lower halves and repeats of Scrubs on the TV that they don’t really pay attention to, save for some brief comparisons between JD and Turk and Harry and Nick. Louis had pulled the coffee table closer and put his feet up, crossed at the ankle under the blanket.

“Enough about Nick,” Harry says firmly, setting his empty plate down on the coffee table. He leans forward on his elbows, legs suddenly feeling very hot and prickly and restricted in his jeans and under the blanket.

“Got something else you’d rather talk about?” Louis asks, sultry as all hell and Harry feels his heart leap out his chest as he turns his head to spare a glance at Louis. He’s dropped his plate to the floor and is pulling Harry back by his shoulder. Before Harry can regroup and concentrate on what’s happening Louis has kicked the blanket off them, thrown a leg over Harry's lap and is up on his knees, straddling Harry, his palms pressing firmly flat against his chest.

Harry opens his mouth to say something but it’s lost in the moment and all he can focus on are the pillowy pink soft lips that are directly in his line of vision. Louis lowers himself so their foreheads touch and tips of their noses brush lightly together. The last parts of them to touch are the aforementioned lips that Harry wants so badly.

Louis’ hands move quickly to either side of his neck, flexing his fingers into the mass of curls that emanate from the base of his neck. Harry feels him use this grip to tilt his head upwards, pressing more urgently against his mouth before pushing past the barrier of Harry’s lips with his tongue. He shifts with pulsing little thrusts in Harry’s lap and his breath catches in his throat as he feels Louis’ burgeoning length press against his tummy. He himself suddenly feels too restricted in his denim and no doubt Louis does too. His arms suddenly catch up with the rest of his body and he moves to wrap them around Louis’ lower back, one hand on the swell of his bum and the other slipped under the hem of his jumper and resting upon smooth, sizzling hot skin.

Their kiss is almost obscene by this point, both uttering guttural moans into each others mouths as Louis begins to rut against him with more force. Harry's hands falter round his bum, clawing desperately at the taught material, unable to get at what he wants.

"Off, get em off!" he instructs Louis, breaking their contact to concentrate on getting the button undone. The most minute pudge of tanned tummy is revealed as Louis hoists up his t-shirt to make trouser-removing easier. A bolt of white hot desire powers through Harry straight to his crotch.

As the button finally separates, Louis shuffles off his knees and onto his feet, wiggling out of his jeans and his black boxers in one fell swoop.

His cock springs free and bounces off that beautiful rounded tummy, the length golden like his body but darker still, the mass of a glistening pink head peeking out of his straining foreskin.

Harry himself leans all his weight into the back of the sofa and lifts his bum off the sofa, pulling down the clothes of lower half just enough so his own pulsing cock can become free. He pulls Louis back down on top him, his jeans and boxers still bunched around the knee of one leg in Harry's haste to have the boy back.

Louis makes a strangled sort of hungry noise as Harry sinks back down onto the sofa and rearranges Louis in his lap. With synchronicity, they each reach for their respective cocks. Harry's whole insides clench and lurch as Louis' delicate fingers wrap around his length, and he feels encouraged by Louis' whimpers as he takes hold of him in his hand.

Breathless and so near to the edge already, Harry dives in to smothering kisses over the exposed expanse of Louis' neck. His collar bones are revealed as the material ruches and Harry finds himself clamping his lips around the jutting structure and sucking. He's never done anything like this before, never felt so insatiable for every inch of a person before.

Louis nudges him out of the way with his cheek and peppers his own quick kisses across Harry's neck and chest, still pumping away expertly with a flick of the wrist every time his hand curves over Harry's head. Each simple movement sends tremors down Harry's cock straight to the pit of his stomach, and it's not long at all before he can feel that sensation turn to scalding hot fire.

"I'm gonna..." is all he can muster. Louis moans encouragingly and bites down on a slither of skin just where Harry's neck becomes his shoulder.

"So am I." He utters against the spit-slicked skin.

Together, they moan and encourage each other to their breaking points, creamy hot ribbons of come erupting seconds apart and decorating their hands and tummies but mostly the innocent clothing that separates their bodies.

Wordless and both completely spent, Louis sinks down, burying his face in the crook of Harry's neck. His warm breaths tickle Harry's skin but he can't do anything for how sated he feels. In the few minutes that pass, they’re completely silent. Their breathing eventually begins to slow and return to normal and Louis’ still sitting in his lap, exposed and slightly sweaty and coming down.

It's a bad day to be a t-shirt, and Louis apologises profusely; offering to wash and return Harry's tops, lending him a rather snug fitting scoop neck white t-shirt for the journey home. They share a soft but lingering kiss by the front door when Harry finally manages to drag himself off the sofa. No formal arrangements are made for next time but it doesn't deter Harry. He feels the best he's felt with anyone in a long while.

*

When Harry wakes up the next morning to find three Snapchat’s, two missed calls and six texts from Nick, he doesn't even need to look at them to know he’s in trouble.

Nick picks up on the second ring and foregoes ‘hello’ in favour of a much snappier, to-the-point greeting.

“Styles, what the hell do you call this? I said I wanted updates on the hour not fucking eleven hours later!”

“Sorry, I went to bed as soon as I got in, I was tired.”

“I bet you were!” Nick says, alluding to something that Harry hadn't even hinted at. “Now, details. You two boyfs yet?”

“Don’t use the word ’boyfs’ Nick, you are supposed to be educated.” Harry says, purposely letting Nick's question hang unanswered a bit longer.

“Answer the question or I will cut you.” Nick says sharply.

“No, we’re not official… boyfs.” Harry uses that awful word again, reluctantly. He’s not going to give Nick the gory details, but he’s being honest when he says Louis isn’t his boyfriend. There has been no discussion either way but a niggling part of Harry just wants to say yes, yes Louis is his boyfriend. But he won’t.

“Hmm, I can’t help but feel you’re holding out on me, Harold.”

“Well, I don’t kiss and tell so shove off.”

“Ha! I knew it. You horn dog, so was it good?”

“Shut up, Nick, we’re not going there!” Harry says firmly. He repeats himself about umpteen times trying to ward off Nick. Eventually, he gets the message and changes the subject round to something else.

Once he’s free from Nick and cleared all the stupid, pining Snap’s and text notifications, he sees a lonely little text from Louis sitting at the bottom of his notification panel, time-stamped 01:14.

‘Had such a lovely night tonight, miss you already, sleep well love xxx’

Grinning at his phone screen like a mad man, he hammers out a quick message to Louis, kicking himself for falling asleep and not seeing this message sooner. It’s getting on for 11am now and he remembers Louis saying he had a late start at work, and he’s relieved to get an almost instantaneous reply back.

‘It’s okay my sleeping beauty. You okay this morning? xx’

They text until it’s time for Louis to go to work, and even then, the replies are constant just a little more spaced out than before. Harry does feel a bit bad to be lounging about his flat all day, but he thanks his lucky stars he lives in an age where unlimited texts are almost universally the norm because he’s been in contact with Louis since the very minute he opened his eyes that morning and he still doesn't feel like they've said enough.

His good mood puts him in the kitchen making chicken stir fry for tea for his flatmates. He sticks the radio on, just in time to catch the news at 5pm, read expertly by Kate. He had long since given up pretending to Nick that he endeavoured to catch his radio show every afternoon that he wasn’t at the studio with him. Jess and Ben’s rush hour show is a laugh. They have a quiz every evening at 5:05pm after the news and weather, ‘give the wrong answer’. It sounds strange, and perhaps it is like something a very drunk or very stoned person would come up with, but it’s a giggle and Harry likes to laugh at the answers.

Jess asks the caller ‘name something you find in the bathroom’ and they’d hesitated before shouting out ‘sofa’. Other questions included ‘name a Madonna song – ‘Highway To Hell’, ‘name something kept in the fridge – paper clips’ and ‘name an English football player – Lewis Hamilton’. Harry, playing along at home, blurted out the wrong (or technically right) answers to almost all the questions. He blames it on having too much on his mind already.

He and Nick had played the game once and it’s surprisingly difficult, so knowing your live on air at the same time as playing must be even harder.

He manages to pry himself away from his phone for half an hour to sit and eat his stir fry with his flatmates before disappearing and reappearing an hour later, showered and dressed unusually casually in black Adidas bottoms and an old t-shirt.

‘I’m coming over x’

Knocking on Nick’s door, he’s greeted by Nick’s seldom-seen room mate Aimee. She’s all long haired and sunken eyes and protruding elbows and shoulder bones. Nick had once said she was the girl version of Harry and he doesn’t know who was more offended, himself or Aimee.

“Hey Doll, Nichol-arse about?” Harry sing-songs chirpily, stepping past her and over the threshold without waiting to be welcomed in.

“Yes, please do come in!” Aimee mutters, pushing the door closed behind him. The corridor becomes submerged in darkness again as Harry navigates his way through the dingy surroundings. He pokes his head into the kitchen, then peers around the front room before eventually finding the man in question in his bedroom.

There’s a funk to the room as Harry spies a takeaway container that smells suspiciously like day’s old doner kebab and chips.

“Hello you filthy heathen. I texted you, thanks for texting back.” Harry marches straight in and settles in a space on the end of Nick’s bed, draping his own legs over Nick’s gangly limbs.

“Yeah, now you know how it feels!”

“Shut up whinging, it’s not like I moved to Indonesia.”

“Indonesia? Why Indonesia?” Nick quirks a brow.

“I dunno, it’s the first place that's far away that came into my head.” Harry says defensively.

Nick demands an update, a proper update this time, and somewhat reluctantly at first, Harry indulges him. He leaves out the personal parts, the parts that are for him and Louis only, but gives Nick a basic overview. He agonises with him over whether or not these last few meetings with Louis have been dates or not, worries over the text messages and Louis’ use of words like ‘beauty’ and ‘miss you’ and love’. They debate between them what the state of the relationship is; Harry insisting that there’s nothing to debate and they’re just having fun until otherwise stated, Nick claiming that Louis is clearly interested and he’s seventy five percent sure that he and Louis are likely exclusive.

The fact that they haven’t discussed exclusivity yet and that Louis may well be carrying on like this with one or more other men sits uneasily in Harry’s tummy until Nick turns the conversation around to gossip about Aimee and sticks on a first season episode of Bob’s Burger’s on E4+1.

“Look, H, I know I take the piss but if you’re worried about where you stand with Louis, just ask him?” Nick offers as they stand at the front door, attempting to part ways.

“I don’t wanna embarrass meself.” Harry says quietly. It’s the truth. The main reason he doesn't want to ask for clarification from Louis is because he doesn't want to lose what they have, but secondarily he doesn’t want to feel embarrassed. Who wants to be embarrassed?

“I don’t think that’s gonna happen, Haz.” Nick sounds so sure and Harry wonders how the hell he can sound so sure.

“I dunno. I might wait 'til after me birthday. I don’t wanna be miserable on me birthday.”

Nick laughs softly at him and pats his back. They stand on the inside of the front door, letting all the cold air in as they share their moment. Nick’s sensitive side isn't often released but it is there and it’s nice to know it’s there.

“Anyway, away to your home young Styles. Y’know where I am if y’need me, okay?”

*

Harry drafts a message to Louis when he’s on the tube home and without signal. He saves it without sending and writes a fresh message, a shorter message, and presses send.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy with how this turned out, I hope you liked it too! Please let me know if you did! Thank you for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Well, 15k. I've NEVER written that much before. I'm chuffed with how this turned out, I read and re-read and edited it many times so I hope its okay, I did my best! Please enjoy!

  
“I feel as unwanted as a Baylis and Harding gift set at Christmas!” Harry wails dramatically as he holds up his phone in Nick’s direction. The message from Louis saying he's got a stack of ironing to do for him and his flatmates tonight glows on the screen; the cause for Harry's distress. It's Saturday evening and Harry has been left bereft of plans after Louis delivered the tragic news that he wasn’t available. Whatever Harry used to do to socialise before Louis came along, he can't remember.

“Yes, Harry, you’ve shown me already.” Nick bats Harry’s hand away. “You’re acting like he killed your budgie, he’s just busy. These things happen.”

“But I miss him….” Harry whines, dragging out the final letter of each word. He’s already well on his way to being a little bit drunk; the wallowing in self-pity type of drunk apparently. “Who irons on a Saturday night anyway? He was ironing on Monday, the little liar!”

“Harry, people have lots of clothes. Ironing happens more than once a month, I can assure you.” Nick says pointedly, referring to the washing that Harry’s mum used to do for him on her monthly visits when they first moved down south.

Harry considers this but scoffs regardless. “Well, I think it’s a flimsy excuse. He’s not interested is he?”

Nick takes to ignoring Harry after that, sucking down his own Coors Light with intent as he looks back down into the glow of his MacBook Pro screen. Nick is being all Important and hosting a Twitter Q&A for the radio station, and even though it’s hardly Radio One or anything like that, and his hashtag and Twitter followers only reach the thousands not the millions, it’s gone down pretty well and he has to go through the best tweets to divvy up between the five shows, probably choosing the best ones for himself. Nick laughs softly to himself periodically, which annoys Harry even more. How dare someone be having fun when he is moping so miserably?

“Oh sorry, I forgot you wouldn’t wanna talk t’me now you’re a big celeb!” Harry says indignantly, slurring the word ‘celeb’ a little bit. He continues to prod at Nick’s thigh with his socked foot, making the laptop wobble and getting Nick closer and closer to bopping him on the nose.

“Harry, you knew I had to work before you came over, you moo.”

Well, moo is an interesting insult. Yes, Harry did know that Nick was busy but he still invited himself over anyway, unable to stand the thought of being alone. Falling for Louis had turned him into a real sappy wimp. Harry spends the next ten minutes trying to convince Nick to abandon the Q&A for a minute to pay attention to him; only giving up when Nick offers to put him in a tray of potato waffles and chicken nuggets if he shuts up for a minute.

“Y’know I can’t always be bribed by… with food, y’know?” Harry slurs, pouting indignantly as Nick bangs and clangs around in the kitchen being loud as if to prove a point. He throws down the frozen potato products with gusto and scrapes the oven tray along the oven shelf so it makes a horrible noise, and then shuts the oven door with a clunking bang.

“Shut up, you’re drunk.” Nick throws him a look as he collapses back down on the sofa and reaches for his MacBook.

“I’m not!” Harry cries back, but the amount of time he spends fiddling with a loose thread on the hem of his t-shirt with his tongue bitten gently between his teeth for concentration says otherwise.

 

*

 

He eats his childlike tea quietly as Nick hammers away at the keyboard for a few seconds at a time, pausing to laugh, and then hammer away again. Harry picks his glass of orange squash up off the floor; Nick obviously hasn’t noticed it is on the floor otherwise he would scream at Harry to pick it up and put it on a coaster on the coffee table. He sips contemplatively, his throwback dining experience complete with the overly sweet orange liquid slipping down his throat.

“Should I just go there? See what’s… what he’s doing?”

“I dunno, Haz, do you think that’s a good idea?” Nick asks without looking up, which is no help whatsoever.

“That’s why I’m asking you, Grim!” Harry explodes, setting his glass back down unsteadily on the carpet and slapping his thighs. “If I knew the answer I wouldn’t have’ta ask!”

“I think you’re maybe a little bit too drunk to be making important decisions right now, mate.” Harry looks aghast as Nick continues to watch him closely.

“I’m not even that drunk.” He enunciates clearly for Nick, which does little to dispel the bemused smirk fixed on Nick’s face.

“Look, finish your tea I just slaved in the kitchen to make,” Harry looks down at the remaining waffle and three chicken nuggets, “then see if you still want to see him in an hour. If you do, you have my blessing.”

“Blessing!” Harry rolls his eyes and mutters under his breath, but his heart does that annoying somersault thing again and he attempts to quell it with nuggets and orange squash.

After a restless 35 minutes trying to watch 8 out of 10 Cats on low as to not distract Nick too much, Harry has finally had enough. “Nick, it’s time! Tell me, Should I Stay Or Should I Go?”

Nick snorts at Harry’s pop reference, shaking his head and peering down his nose at Harry like a wise old owl. Old being the operative word. “Just go! Anything to get you out of my hair!”

“Hey!” Harry protests, but he’s got the answer he wanted from Nick so he doesn’t protest too much. Dropping off his glass and his plate in the kitchen, he flies to the toilet for a quick wee and a borrow of Nick’s toothbrush (he won’t mind nor does Harry care). He throws himself over the back of the sofa and drapes his arms around Nick like a clingy koala, landing a kiss on his cheek before ruffling his floppy, messy quiff into a floppier, messier quiff, before making for the door.

 

*

 

“Am not even drunk!” Harry repeats to himself, sometimes in his head, sometimes under his breath, as he follows the familiar path to Louis’ flat.

As he reaches out to press the buzzer, he sees the door isn’t clinked properly into the latch, so he pushes his way through and silently ascends the stairs. The first flight is okay but by the time he reaches mid-way up the second flight of stairs he’s sweating a bit and his legs feel like lead. He has to pause in preparation to take the third set of steps; he’s now no longer silent but wheezing and coughing in reaction to the tight feeling in his chest.

He loiters in the hallway for a moment or two, catching his breath, before beginning the final leg of his journey; the walk from the stairwell to Louis’ door. The beers he’d drunk before are a distant memory, he feels more sober than ever before as he thinks about who is on the other side of that door. His fingers itch to get a hold of Louis; his eyes feel empty until he can get a look at the magnificent boy and all that he encompasses.

He knocks gently, mindful of the fact it is after nine and there might be children sleeping in the area. It’s not long before the sound of sliding metal comes from the other side of the door as the security chain is unbolted.

The door opens a crack and Louis peers out at him from around the wood, hair messy but eyes shining. The door then swings open all the way slowly to reveal a dishevelled, ready-for-bed looking Louis decked out in an all-navy ensemble; a beyond baggy hoodie and Adidas tracksuit bottoms tucked into his socks.

“Hello love. You alright?” Louis seems a pleasant mix of perplexed and pleased to see him, which Harry takes as a good sign. He drowns in his baggy, comfortable clothes and he looks so soft and so warm Harry just wants to jump right into his pocket and live there.

“Hiya, I know you’re ironing or whatever and you said stay away but I was with Nick but I missed you and I was drinking but not that drunk that I was being stupid so I just decided to come here anyway.” Harry rambles on making little to no sense, not pausing to take a breath or to think.

“Haz, take a breath love!” Louis chuckles softly before seemingly realising that they’re still stood at the front door. He ushers Harry in and they’re silent until they reach Louis’ room. Harry spots the ironing board upright in the familiar living room, a small pile of folded clothes stacked up on a chair adjacent.

“Nice room.” Harry forgets his plight to look around Louis’ bedroom. It’s not very big but bigger than his own bedroom. The ceiling seems high which gives it a spacious feeling; the floors are wooden and the walls patterned. Nothing matches and the décor is dated while the furniture is modern. His bed sheets are blue and white striped but the rug on the floor is floral and mainly comprises burnt oranges and brown hues.

“Haz, I never told you to stay away. I just thought that a day or two apart would be good for us and that you wouldn’t get sick of me so fast. I’m glad you came by.” Louis pauses and Harry catches a glimpse of his own stupid, grinning reflection in the little mirror on top of a scuffed, beech effect unit. “I missed you too, by the way.”

Harry feels triumphant to hear those words from Louis. Tearing his eyes away from the questionable framed pictures of flowers and statues on the wall, he sees Louis slumped against the closed door watching him closely with his dazzling blue eyes.

“Nice pictures…” he murmurs, gesturing vaguely towards the frames.

“They came with the room.” Louis says simply, gazing over at them blankly then back at Harry. He suddenly feels very lost in the middle of the room, desperate to reach out and touch him. Louis speaks again but Harry barely hears him for the roar of blood pumping around his veins. Luckily, Louis motions towards the bed and Harry takes that as an invitation to sit down.

He does so, a bit awkwardly at first, his limbs suddenly feeling too long to control. He almost flinches as Louis touches him and the older man snaps his neck back in surprise. “What’s up?” Louis asks, and Harry can’t find an answer. There’s nothing wrong. There never is when he’s with Louis.

Wordlessly, he shakes his head and reaches back out for Louis’ retracted hand. He places it down on his leg and rests his own hand over it. Louis’ reassuring smile brings Harry’s heart rate back up again and Louis squeezes his thigh suggestively and that’s all it takes.

Louis has him pressed down into the pillows, pinned in place by his thighs before Harry can think about anything. “I’m so glad you came over.” Louis mutters against his skin, the brush of his lips hot but his breath hotter. “I missed you. I missed this skin, these lips, these eyes.” He suckles small, gentle love bites into Harry’s neck, neither of them stopping to worry about the fact they will need hiding later on. Louis kisses over the forming blushes of skin. “I missed all of you.”

Harry can’t find his own voice, but every time Louis speaks, he rolls his hips a fraction and Harry wriggles to catch the awesome friction that comes with the coordinated shifting of their bodies.

“Did you miss me?” Louis continues, his hoarse drawling whisper almost killing Harry. He nods, still unable to form words, and Louis sets his lips back down against the skin of his neck, peppering small but firm kisses all the way up the column of his neck and along the underside ridge of his jaw. As he curves around the pronounced jut, he deviates to under Harry’s ear and kisses there, his labouring breaths warm in Harry’s ear and he yelps softly as Louis teases his ear lobe between his teeth. Harry shudders as Louis giggles into his ear and asks, “Like that?”

Harry nods desperately and Louis’ lips are soon back on him; he kisses along his cheek, three eager kisses until their lips are connected, and that’s what Harry really wanted. He can’t help but moan into Harry’s mouth as his tongue breaks into his mouth. He shuffles down the bed so his head is off the pillows and flat, opening up the entire expanse of his collar and chest for Louis. His stomach muscles scream as he lifts himself half off the bed to remove his t-shirt; breathlessly he tosses it to the ground and locks Louis in with his legs clamped tightly around his waist, the connection bringing Louis down close to him again.

"Why are you still so dressed?" Harry asks, feeling blindly between their bodies for the end of the copious amounts of material that Louis seems to be draped in. Harry nearly breaks his arms in his haste to pull off Louis' hoodie. Louis breaks away to curl himself out of his hoodie, his t-shirt riding up and showing off inches of tanned torso in the process.

He proceeds to just sit in Harry’s lap, t-shirt still on and an expectant, patient half-smile on his face. "You want it all off? You have to ask me nicely."

"Yes, all off. Please." Harry asks eagerly.

"As you asked so nicely..." Louis says as he peels the thin white material off his body.

Louis sinks back down and the first touch of their bare tummies is electric; Louis feels so warm against Harry after being bundled up in his hoodie all night.

"You're so hot," he says as his hands skim over Louis' shoulders and down his back. "Like, to the touch." Louis splutters a laugh at him as his mangled pseudo-compliment causes a furious blush on his cheeks. "You know what I mean, shut up!"

Harry isn’t ashamed to admit in that moment that the thought of anyone else near or with Louis in this capacity scares him to death; he feels brain dead and boneless to most things but he knows that this boy is for keeps.

"I wanna suck you off now." Louis says, clear and unaffected, which brings Harry out of his love fest daydream abruptly. When he doesn't get an answer he asks again, "Can I?"

Dumbstruck, Harry’s barely finished nodding before Louis is throwing the duvet down to the foot of the bed and wriggling down to between Harry's knees. He seems to compact himself down to fit in any space, and Harry wonders for a brief moment how he is going to breathe and suck when he's curled up so tight. He's already hard in his jeans as Louis tackles the fly, palming at him through the taught material exaggeratedly as he goes.

"Get you outta these," he whispers almost to himself as he finally gets the fastening separated. Helpfully, Harry lifts his bum off the bed and wriggles himself as Louis pulls him out of his jeans, his cock bouncing from the inner thigh to his tummy and back again as he goes.

There is no teasing any more after that, just straight to it with Louis swallowing down Harry in his muth. The inside of his lips and the flat pad of his tongue is especially warm and damp as he takes down inch by inch of Harry’s cock that somehow feels like its hardening even more in Louis' presence. His hand wraps around the base, and it takes Harry a moment to realise Louis must've licked his fingers because his whole shaft feels slick and ready to burst as Louis' mouth meets his hand and his whole length is enveloped.

Louis works his mouth and his hand together for three or four turns before stilling his hand around the base; spreading his fingers delicately across the trimmed expanse of hair surrounding the base and keeping the length in check between his thumb and forefinger.

The cold air around his cock as opposed to the warmth from Louis' mouth is stark and not enjoyable, but it’s mere seconds before Louis closes his mouth over the head of his cock again and flexes his tongue from right to left over the flat underside.

Harry can't help but utter out a guttural moan as Louis' tongue brushes over the most sensitive parts of the head of his cock, alternating between sweeping motions all over and channelling the end of his tongue into a finer point and working over the slit and the area on the underside. Louis flattens his tongue to swipe it over the sloping smooth side of Harry's cock head before wrapping the underside of his tongue over the underneath.

"Lou, I, fuck yeah..." Harry can only utter non-words already; he is so gone for this boy it's insane. Louis makes a sound in the back of his throat while simultaneously closing his lips tight an inch or so past the head; the vibrations send ripples through Harry straight to his core. "Good. So good."

With every dip and rise of his head, Louis lets Harry hit the back of his throat at the same time he lets out little yelps and mewls. Harry feels even harder than before, if that’s possible, and he knows it won't be long until he's coming if Louis continues this way.

He sneaks a look down at Louis rhythmically bobbing up and down on his cock; his cheeks hollow and his eyes are hooded but perhaps not quite one hundred percent closed. He must sense Harry’s shift in stance as he looks up at him just as he sinks down to the base. His blue eyes are glassy and the whites have a pinkish tinge to them. His lips are slick with spit and his cheeks hollow out amazingly. The reality of the moist, warm vacuum of Louis' mouth around his cock catches up to him in that moment and he can feel the heat rising. He’s lasted precisely many minutes less than he had hoped but it's too good.

He shifts the upper half of his body, struggling to find the words.

"Gon' come babe?" Louis utters as he briefly pops off the top, holding the very tip of the head in between his open mouth before sinking down again. With three skilled, closed-mouth sucks Harry bucks up off the bed and Louis slams all the way down so his nose presses into the slight pale pudge of Harry's tummy. He shoots three ribbons of come right down the back of Louis' throat, sighing and gasping for air and seeing stars as he rides out his orgasm. He focuses on Louis delicately teasing his throbbing head with his tongue. He’s so sensitive each touch feels like fire, and he is relieved when Louis gently lets his cock fall from his mouth. It bounces against his tummy once before making several small jerking movements and then eventually starting to calm down.

"Wow!" Is all he can say; still breathless from what just happened.

"Good babe?" Louis asks as he slides up the bed on his front, setting himself down gently on his tummy. Harry hadn’t missed the feel of the strong erection pressed into his thigh as Louis had moved.

"Yeah." Is all Harry can say. He feels like a horny teenager who's just had their first non-wanking sexual encounter. That’s what Louis had reduced him to; every touch and every kiss and every lick feels like the first time again.

"Kiss me?" Louis asks, and Harry is surprised to see him look unsure. He nods obliging, never one to turn down a Louis kiss, regardless of the circumstances.

Yes, he can taste himself on Louis' tongue. It’s an acquired taste and different from anyone else he has ever tasted, which he supposes is probably normal. His brain wanders once again into dangerous territory; thinking about the other boys that might have been right here with Louis before. No one from Harry’s past (all two of them) holds a candle to Louis in any way shape or form, but Louis has never given him any indication either way as to whether he is any good or not.

Their tongues work together fluently and soon he tastes like Louis again. His lips are oh so soft and every once in a while Louis will withdraw his tongue from his mouth and just press soft, light little kisses onto his lips; drag his lips across Harry’s so they tingle and Harry feels the need to scrunch up his face.

"I love that face you make." Louis whispers as Harry finds himself scrunching up his nose and squinting his eyes.

"It's stupid really..." Harry says dismissively but Louis shoots him a stern look.

"It's not stupid it’s my favourite face on you. Other than your come face, of course!"

"You weren't even lookin' at me when I..." Harry trails off at the same time Louis smirks at him. There had been that time on the sofa of course. They were in very close proximity and very much face to face when they'd come together; up into their t-shirts and over their hands and arms.

"Like I said, I love your come face. Don’t try and rob me of my precious memories!" Louis says dramatically, shifting onto his other elbow. He peers up the bed at Harry and Harry feels an overwhelming surge of affection for this boy. This boy who was a literal stranger one calendar month ago.

"Let's do it?" Harry blurts out, his mouth jumping into action before his brain has had a chance to find a better way to say it.

"What, it it?" Louis asks, his interested piqued again. Poking out his tongue and biting it playfully, he adds, "like, S-E-X?"

Rolling his eyes, Harry nods and blushes hard, like the idea of the words being out in the open is suddenly the biggest thing to ever happen to him. Which actually it probably is. "You wanna? I want to."

"Does the bear shit in the forest?" Louis asks, in true Louis fashion ruining what could have been a lovely moment.

"Jesus Christ, where did I find you?" Harry bursts out, pretending to push Louis away off his elbows, but reaches the other arm out to stop him before he can roll away anywhere.

"Look, I’m a delight and you'll be pleased to have me!" Louis says softly but perfectly plainly. "And yes, for the record I’d very much like to do the sex with you."

Do the sex, Harry thinks, rolling his eyes again like it’s a permanent state of being. "Lou, honestly, I'm this close to getting up and goin' home!"

He's not. "No you're not."

"No," he says reluctantly. "So do you... I mean, how do you wanna do this?"

"Such a gentleman. Well, I’m just gonna be blunt and put this out there. I want you. Inside me. Like, pretty soon. Is that okay?"

And he's just so... Louis about the whole thing Harry doesn’t know whether to be impressed, offended or neither. He goes for neither. He agrees in a nanosecond and Louis is immediately back up on his knees, throwing a leg over Harry's and settling on his lap just missing his softening cock.

"Gotta get this off then." he says, starting by running his hands under the hem of Harry’s t-shirt and massaging over the bumps and crevices of the contours of his tummy. He rocks forward on his hips to steady himself as he leans forward to brush over both nipples simultaneously. He jerks under Louis' touch as he fiddles with the nubs even more.

"Get it off, yeah." He struggles to get himself naked quick enough, eventually sitting upright so he can wriggle out of his t-shirt himself. He catches Louis' lips against his as they sink back down, peppering kisses over every inch of available skin before lowering his hands to pull at the elasticated waistband of Louis' tracksuit bottoms. "You, outta these. Now."

"Bossy." Louis says with a devilish smirk, somehow managing to hold eye contact the entire time he crawls off the bed to strip himself of his bottoms and boxers.

Louis catches Harry staring at him and his perfect cock getting back on the bed. "Didn’t they teach you it’s rude to stare?"

"Don't be so fucking amazin' then." Harry murmurs back, his voice surprising him with how husky and spent it sounds.

Louis smiles with pinpricks of blush appearing instantly in his cheeks, and Harry can’t help but feel a warmth rumble in his chest.

Louis throws himself over the edge of his bed and Harry worries for a moment until he pops back up a second or two later with lube and a condom. "My good friend Johnny!" he says proudly to the yellow Durex wrapper. "Say hi, Haz!"

"I’m not saying hi to a condom, Louis." Harry says firmly, his throat constricting with just how endeared he really feels.

"Well you'll be up close and personal with him in a short while, don't you think it’d be polite to make a formal introduction?"

"Honestly, you're so weird, I’m gonna leave soon if-"

"No you're not, stop lying!" Louis interrupts, and they both laugh because Harry knows Louis is right. He's not going anywhere. If someone had have told him before that he'd be laughing and making jokes during pre-foreplay, he'd have assumed his date was a dud and that it was going terribly. But this isn’t going terribly.

Johnny the condom is side-placed momentarily while Louis rolls himself over into the space in the bed next to Harry. He hauls him up onto his side so he can get a hand comfortably on his cock.

The swell of Louis' bum is even more impressive to feel than it is to see, and that's saying something. Through kisses he skims his hand down the knobbly bobbles of Louis' spine, spending a moment on each ridge. The bottom of his back curves in rather pronouncedly before ballooning out again with his soft, rounded cheeks. The sounds he makes encourage Harry to delve further down with his middle finger, between the cheeks slightly.

Once he has made his initial move, he retracts to add some lube. It’s cold in the bottle and colder on his finger and Louis shudders against him with the first point of contact but he wants to be liberal so liberal he will be.

By the time the he gets to the first joint in his finger deep in Louis, he has shifted so he's draped across Harry's body with his legs open wide and knees planted either side of Harry's body.

Harry asks him if he is okay what feels like a million times before he starts to move his finger in a bit further. This is the easy part for him, he doesn’t really have anything to worry about but he can't just press on without checking. He feels like he wants to do it more than has to do it, too, which is new.

Once he breaches the initial ring and his finger begins to widen, Louis' breathing picks up and he murmurs something Harry can't make out against his chest. He asks again if he's okay, to which Louis breathlessly confirms and he wriggles slightly to indicate he wants more.

With his finger now inside to the knuckle, he begins to make the slow steps towards opening Louis up. He uses his other three fingers to grab blindly at a bit of bum cheek and a bit of the flesh between the hole and the balls, and he swears he can feel Louis' heart beating against his own chest.

His confidence builds as Louis relaxes some, and they even manage to coordinate a few kisses along with the finger.

"Gimme 'nother." Louis says into his ear, taking a break from teasing the lobe and other things that Harry can't remember once they've happened but he knows they felt good.

"Yeah, more?" He asks, looking deep into Louis' eyes. They're urgent and dark and very insistent without him even saying a word.

Retracting slightly, he lathers the tip of his middle finger in a pool of lube that has collected in the cleft, before slowly adding in the tip. There is still resistance, of course, but it isn’t as intense this time and his finger straightens out and sinks down to the knuckle quicker than the first.

With two fingers deep in Louis, he feels a new sudden burst of confidence. Louis is loud; he doesn’t shout but he utters and giggles and moans very throatily, most of what comes out of his mouth makes no sense but is vaguely encouraging. Harry speeds up a bit, using the strength of his remaining fingers to palpate the external area. His fingers shift back and forth with the occasional squelch that he can't really hear over Louis' theatrics, but it’s definitely there.

Louis cries out as Harry attempts to scissor his fingers slightly, the extra width essential to make sure he is fully ready.

"Fuck, it's good!" he repeats to himself, turning his head and burying his face into the pillow with a faltering exhale. Harry sees his opportunity as Louis extends his neck out, clamping down on the vulnerable skin. He smoothes over the affected area with his tongue. "Yeah, yeah, so good, fuckin' hell!"

"You ready? I wanna fuck you." He says, apparently all graces and formalities out the window now.

"Yeah, I think so." Louis confirms, pushing down on Harry’s fingers once more for good measure. Harry feels the warmth of Louis' insides push against the tips of his fingers as he does so, and his mind flies to the position his cock is going to be in in a few short moments.

"Get John." Louis says urgently, wrapping a hand around Harry's half-mast cock and pumping effortlessly until Harry can feel how hard and firm he is.

Harry can't even find it in himself to argue over the personified prophylactic anymore. He wiggles his fingers together as best he can as he withdraws them, patting around with his spare hand in the space around him until he feels the sharp edge of the Durex wrapper scrape his skin.

"Got him." He finds himself saying, even though he does not support this whole personification of condoms deal that Louis seems so fond of.

He's rock hard, ready to wrap up and make love to Louis. Wow, make love, really? As he rolls it over the tip, Louis pulls his hand away and rolls over once again onto his back, one leg up on the bed as he waits for Harry. Harry’s eyes almost bulge out of his head as Louis so innocently coats three fingers in lube and massages his hole and the surrounding area, not taking his eyes off Harry the entire time.

"I’m ready for you." he says, coaxing Harry to roll onto his front. With the copious amount of fluid still on his fingers, he coats Harry with the excess and lifts up his other leg so his heels dig into the mattress and Harry is blocked in on both sides.

"You sure? You want this?"

"More than anything." Louis says earnestly as Harry nudges the head of his cock against the hole ready.

Louis takes it well. He opens his legs wider than Harry thought possible, and the strength in his legs surprises Harry as he slowly establishes a rhythm. The headboard is at the perfect height and distance away for Harry to hold onto as he rolls his hips back and forth and presses in and out of Louis steadily.

The boy beneath him grips his biceps until there are white marks left behind, holding that intense eye contact that captivates Harry. Louis takes advantage of a pause in Harry’s routine to shift his hips slightly and wrap his legs around Harry’s waist, letting out a new sound with every thrust Harry gives. This is hitting the right spot, Harry can tell, and whatever sounds Louis is making they are definitely not human.

Harry slows the pace down and languidly works into Louis with a smooth snap of his hips on every inward turn. His stomach does a flip as he notices Louis reach down and wrap a hand around his own cock.

He murmurs something, but Harry doesn't catch it and he doesn’t repeat himself. A few moments later, he indicates for Harry to stop, which he does so abruptly.

"What's wrong?" Harry asks immediately, feeling the concern wash over him and its entirely unpleasant.

"Nothing." Louis says with a quirk of his eyebrows. He chews on his lip, cock still in hand, before continuing, "I just want you to gimme it from behind. Hands and knees."

"C-course, course." Harry agrees blindly, pulling out of Louis and rocking back on his knees while the other boy wriggles onto his front and gets on his knees.

The contours and peaks of Louis' body are incredible, truly. The warm skin of his back and bum and thighs is like heaven to Harry’s senses as they shuffle into place and Harry re-enters Louis. From this angle, granted he can't see his facial expressions, but the noises that he emits are criminal. He doesn’t just sigh, he silently screams. Propped up by the mountain of pillows on his bed, he sinks down into them with his bum stuck out, grinding in time with Harry’s thrusts.

"Y'like it like this baby?" Harry asks, using the hand that isn’t holding himself up to rub down Louis' back, lingering over the slight swelling roundness of his hips and of course, the fantastic cushiony softness of his bum cheeks.

"Yeah, it’s so good." Louis lifts his face from the pillows to say. "So, so good."

"I’m gonna come soon." Harry says truthfully. He not sure if it’s been hours or minutes but it’s been good and that’s all that matters. "Feel so good Lou."

"You feel good in me." Louis says, so seductively it should be illegal. "So hard. So fucking tight for you."

Harry murmurs nonsensical words of agreement; he is tight and it does feel good. Better than anything he's felt for a long time, actually.

Harry begins to feel a tremble in his thighs and a tickly sheen of sweat across his forehead as he continues to pound into Louis. He borrows away his spare hand quickly to toss his damp hair away from his face, only for it to fall back into place immedaitely. "I’m close. Really close."

Louis lifts himself up off the pillows and grabs onto the bed headboard too, sinking in to every pulse that Harry pushes into. With Louis a bit closer Harry can palpate over his hips and tummy, feel for his tiny bud nipples. The feeling builds behind his bellybutton and it’s not long before he's coming again, shooting into the condom, filling it warm and fast. He hears a climactic yelp as he comes and he's not sure if it was him or if it was Louis, but when he regains equilibrium a few seconds later he senses the familiar back and forth movement of a hand job, and Louis is coming himself, up his tummy and probably a bit on the pillows, with Harry’s freshly spent cock still twitching inside him.

"Fuck babe, that was... so good." Harry collapses forward against Louis' warm and clammy skin. He can definitely feel Louis' heart beating out of the back of his ribcage now, matching his own very sped up ticker.

"You fuck so good." Louis says, and without the heat of the moment Harry feel bashfully embarrassed again. "Honestly, Jesus, that was... just wow."

He mumbles a thank you and presses his nose against Louis' shoulder, idly tracing his lips against the skin with no discernible pattern. His heart is slowly beginning to return to normal and he can feel himself softening inside Louis.

"I need to pull out." He informs Louis, who looks over his shoulder as if he'd forgotten Harry was still inside him. He pulls out and pulls off the condom, tying, tossing and hoping for the best.

He sinks backwards onto his knees, legs bent out to the sides in a W shape as Louis carefully clambers off the bed, flashing his decorated abdomen to Harry with a grimace on his face. "See what you made me do, Haz. I’m all dirty now."

"You could say 'at, yeah!" Harry says with a laugh, which is so lame but oh well.

"I’m gonna clean up. I’ll be back in a sec. Make yourself at home." Louis says. Harry has to smile to himself at that. He'd only been here twice, but both times he'd ejaculated on the furniture. He’d ejaculated twice just in this visit; that was a new record.

Thankfully, he doesn’t feel too disgusting as both times his efforts had had somewhere to go. Nonetheless, he would like the opportunity to freshen up.

Harry waits in the bed as he hears a door open and a tap come on down the hallway. A splattering of goosebumps chase their way up his arms and he pulls the covers up to under his chin. The covers smell like Louis, obviously, and it’s lovely. He examines the ceiling and the light fittings and the discolouration in the corners until the rickety floorboards outside the door creak and give away Louis’ return.

“I’m back.” Louis practically whispers as he creeps back inside and pulls the door to. He's still naked as a jailbird, half-hard cock bouncing between his thighs as he walks. Harry watches him as he bends over to put his fleecy pyjama bottoms on. “The bathroom is across but one, there’s a sign on the door anyway. Can’t miss it.”

Quietly, he thanks Louis and disappears to try and find the bathroom; hands cupped over his cock and balls to save any modesty he thinks he might still have. The wee that he goes for is perhaps the longest wee in history; it comes out in two parts and his coitally-challenged mind loses track of how long he’s been in there for. He cleans up and grabs a large-ish looking white fluffy towel to scuttle back down the hall to Louis’ room. He hadn’t noticed any sign of any roommates being home but he didn’t want to get caught literally with his pants down; a great first impression that would make on the friends of the guy he hopes might become his boyfriend one day.

They manage to find a pair of shorts for Harry to wear, given the fact that Louis' tracksuit bottoms would probably all be too short. Back in bed, after close inspection of the pillows and bedding, Louis snuggles into his side and slots his foot between Harry’s ankles so it’s impossible to tell where one man ends and the other begins. Louis has opened a window to clear the funk in the air a bit, and the late evening chill that seeps through is enough to give Harry an excuse to cuddle Louis in close under the blankets.

“You are stayin’ aren't you?” Louis asks softly, his voice a higher pitch and a slower speed than usual. He doesn’t lift his head so Harry feels the warmth of his breath against his chest as he speaks.

“If that’s okay?” Harry peers down at the top of Louis’ head; again the older man still doesn’t move but he does reflexively squeeze his arm draped loosely around Harry’s waist.

“Of course,” Louis says softly, tickling Harry with his stubble as his jaw moves. “I always want you in my bed.”

He already sounds spent. As spent as Harry feels. His legs are starting to tingle with the beginnings of sleep and every once in a while it feels like they’re floating. “Am fallin’…”

“Me too.” Louis whispers into his flesh.

"Night-night, sugar plum." Harry says softly on an out breath.

"Night-night, angel cake." Louis replies, and Harry feels him smile against his chest.

"We're so cheesy." Harry says slowly, laughing one of those tired laughs that are really more of a puff of air than an expression of humour.

“You make me that way. I was perfectly innocent before you defiled me!”

“Defiled?” Harry asks through a gentle laugh. “I don’t think that’s how it happened!”

“Well, you have your interpretation and I have mine!” Louis says, lifting his head off Harry's chest and cutting him off with a kiss so he can’t argue back.

Eventually, though he really doesn’t want to, Harry pulls away. “You did that just to shut me up.”

“Well, my motives were twofold,” Louis says, pausing to affectionately nuzzle into Harry’s neck. “I wanted you to shut up but I also really wanted to kiss you. I always want to kiss you.”

“Like I said, too cheesy.” Harry says with absolutely zero conviction or belief behind his words that Louis is too cheesy.

“You lov- you like it.” Louis’ eyes don’t falter as he stops himself from using the L word. Harry won’t let himself use that word yet no matter how much he wants to. This feels like a huge, delicate bubble that could pop at any second if he puts one foot wrong.

“I do.” He says softly, hoping his pause hasn’t put Louis off. “I just really like being with you.”

“I do too.” Louis says quickly, which is reassuring. He rests his head back down on Harry’s chest with that. Harry watches as his head moves a fraction up and down with each breath in and out that he takes.

They fall asleep with the bouncing glow of the TV filling the otherwise pitch black room. Harry’s favourite Louis is this Louis; lying tangled up with him aimlessly falling asleep to the TV, his head on Harry’s chest, soft, product-less hair and warm skin. He laughs softly out of his nose at A League of Their Own on the screen every few moments until they are both still and the TV goes into standby mode at some point in time between falling asleep and waking up.

 

*

 

When Harry wakes up it’s to an empty space in the bed next to him. It takes Harry a moment to remember where he is as he blinks in reaction to the sunlight gushing in through the windows. His hand shoots out to smooth over the rumpled sheets next to him. There’s no warmth there; Louis must have been up a while.

With unsteady Bambi legs and a stiff back from the unfamiliar mattress, he staggers out of Louis’ bed and pats around blearily for his jeans. His phone in his pocket is hanging on for dear life at 6% battery and he has three texts and a Snapchat notification from Nick that can wait until later. He finds his socks and folds himself down creakily to put them on.

The door groans as he makes his way out and that same dodgy floorboard from last night is so much more amplified in the stark, early morning silence of Louis’ flat. The grumbling floorboards give his approach away and he finds Louis leaning sheepishly against the unit smiling.

“Morning!” Harry says, his voice gruff and awkward at its first use of the day.

“Hi, sorry I was hoping to be back before you woke up.” Louis’ tone is soft and his eyes seem to shift past Harry and over his shoulder on more than one occasion.

“It’s okay; I would’ve stayed in bed but…” Harry doesn’t really have a suitable answer, seeing as though the truth was he'd leapt out of bed upon waking because he didn’t want to be apart from Louis a second longer than necessary.

"You alright?" Harry asks him, referencing the repercussions of their escapades of the night before.

"Yeah, absolutely fine." Louis says softly, pausing for a moment before lightening up his expression and joking, “I love how you went to the effort of putting your socks on but you didn’t borrow a t-shirt. You little show off.”

“Are you complaining?"

“Absolutely not. My favourite thing to see in the morning is a half-naked man in me kitchen.”

“Do you get many half-naked men in your kitchen then?”

“Only Zayn, but he doesn't count. He’s God-like but he got nothin’ on you.”

“That’s a song isn't it?” Harry realises with a laugh, and the widening of Louis’ eyes paired with his hearty chuckle says that he hadn’t intended to make said cultural reference.

“I’d write you a song, better than Bruno Mars, if I knew how. I’d write you all the songs and it still wouldn’t be enough.” Louis says frankly, and it takes Harry aback.

“Bruno Mars is the King of love songs, I suppose.” Harry says. Reaching out to touch Louis’ hip, he adds, “You can be the King of my Heart.”

It’s lame and it’s cheesy and for a split second once it’s out Harry wishes he could take it back, but Louis dissolves into the human version of puppy dogs on kittens on rainbows and Harry doesn't suppose the comment has done too much damage.

“Could we be any cheesier?” Louis giggles, motioning for Harry to step into the space in between his legs. Harry falls into place close to Louis, draping his arms casually around his waist and resting his forehead on his shoulder. Heat radiates from this boy through his clothes.

“I like cheesy. Cheesy is good.” Harry says, remembering vaguely their late night cheesiness conversation the night before.

“We will drive everyone we know mad with our soppiness.” Louis laughs, his head turned slightly so he’s talking into Harry’s mass of bedhead curls. “They will banish us to our own island just to get rid of us.”

“Sounds good, as long as you’re there.”

“I’ll be there. I’ll always be there.”

Harry tightens his grip around Louis which he hopes says everything he wants it to. “I can’t believe that like, this time last month I didn’t even know you.”

“I know, crazy how things happen isn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t be without you now, y’know?” Harry lifts his head off Louis’ shoulder and looks the other boy square in the eye. He suddenly feels a bit overcome. Louis has lifted his chin so their gazes can meet, and in that moment Harry decides that the inch or so height disadvantage that Louis normally has on him is his favourite thing about him. Well, one of his favourite things.

“Me either.” Louis says, so softly it’s almost just a movement of his lips with no sound. “Let’s take a cuppa back to bed. My roommates’ll be comin’ in soon; I don’t wanna share you just yet.”

 

*

 

After returning to the bedroom, they don't surface again until well after lunch time. They spend most of the morning holed up in Louis’ room watching Friends and Frasier and King of Queens on E4+1. It’s getting on for one when the front door bangs down the hallway and whistling comes.

"Oh shit, roommate! I’ll go and meet him otherwise he'll just barge right in."

Harry nods and laughs to himself at Louis flying around his room trying to find a t-shirt. he sneaks out of the door and soon the voices start.

“Lou, why is the ironing board still up?” A chipper, jovial voice asks Louis accusingly. The lilt is Irish and gently coaxing, and Harry wonders how far the voice will press Louis before he cracks.

“Oh, I was ironing but, y’know, forgot to put the board away.” Louis is obviously going for breezy but he ends up sounding ridiculous.

“Forgot to put the board away?” The voice asks again, and he’s obviously quite suspicious of Louis’ charade.

“I dunno, sorry didn’t realise you cared that much, I’ll put it down now.” He hears Louis say.

“No, don’t, I can do it. You look rough, late night?"

“No, not particularly. Quite uneventful really. Just went to bed and watched TV. And I’m just relaxing, not doing anything, really.” Harry has to giggle silently to himself at Louis saying too much. If Harry was this mystery Irish man, he’d be suspicious.

“Why don’t you come down The Lemon’s for a fry up? Pub after, catch the footie?” The Irishman asks, seemingly unfazed or simply used to Louis’ quirkiness.

“Uhh, nah, well, you see, I don’t feel well so…” Louis says, even though he was feigning good health a moment ago.

“You seem fine to me.” The Irish voice responds, sounding as suspicious as Harry thinks Louis sounds.

“Ni, I’m sick. Honestly. I just wanna get back into bed and cuddle up.” Louis says, sounding a little desperate.

“Cuddle up to what, your pillow? Sad fucker!” The Irish voice – Ni, whatever that is short for – says, mocking Louis and laughing heartily.

“Yeah, me pillow.” Louis says, and Harry can’t help but smirk from the other side of the door. “Look, I’ll see ya later yeah? Text me if Zayn appears.”

“He’s been at Casa Del Perrie all weekend, I wouldn’t bank on that!” The mystery man shoots back, before the voices become muffled and further away, then closer again, before the front door clunks closed and Louis reappears in the bedroom with half a pack of Jaffa cakes.

“Sorry, it’s hard to shake Niall off, he’s like a bad cold.” Louis says, climbing into bed next to Harry and propping himself up on the pillows. Harry has never seen so many pillows on one bed before.

“It’s okay, and by the way you’re a terrible liar.”

“He didn’t suspect so therefore I am a good liar. Check yourself, young Harry.”

Harry can only laugh at that, helping himself to a Jaffa cake and turning his attention back to the adverts that are currently playing now that King of Queen’s has finished.

“Why are you watching the adverts?” Louis asks, folding over the plastic packaging on the Jaffa cakes and rolling himself on top of Harry. “Watch me instead.”

 

*

 

Harry is loath to go home, but by half past two it really is time. He needs a proper shower and something to eat and to charge his phone and speak to Nick and really there is a lot he needs to be doing to fill his time and not think about missing Louis.

His t-shirt smells like Louis’ flat and Harry sort of doesn’t want to wash it ever again, just so he can preserve the smell. Back at home, Roommate #1 is sprawled out watching the football, which makes Harry think of Louis, while a bag of food shopping still sits on the countertop in the kitchen, reminding him of Louis again,a box of Jaffa cakes sticking out the top of the bag.

Sighing wistfully, he retires to his Louis-less room and plugs his phone in to charge; his lifeline to the outside world that seems so much more appealing than the dark and dreary little bubble he has found himself in.

Nick is disgusting as usual; asking him for the gory details to which Harry pretends there are none. He manages to hold out for all of twenty five minutes before he texts Louis.

Turns out, the other man had ended up joining Niall at the pub for football and a few drinks. The stream of texts is steady though and it would appear that Louis’ attention is more on him than it is on the game. Interspersed with Louis’ texts are idiotic statements and emoji-fests from Nick, as well as a message from his mum and a call from the music college asking him if he can do a full week of cover? Gratefully, he accepts. He could use the money for his birthday weekend and it’s probably about time he paid for something instead of Louis constantly.

 

*

 

Monday and Tuesday are quiet. They drag by and Harry pouts like it’s going out of fashion because Louis is busy until Wednesday night.

By Wednesday night he’s perked up though because they’re off to the pub and making a very Important Step in their relationship that isn’t quite a relationship officially yet; Harry is meeting one of Louis’ friends. Namely, Niall the Irishman from Louis’ hallway encounter while Harry had been half-naked in his bed.

Harry has seen pictures Niall is tagged in on Louis’ Facebook and he has heard his voice through the door, but this will be the first time meeting him properly. Yes, he’s nervous but Louis has met his best friend so it’s only fair. He presses Louis thoroughly via text to find out how much Niall knows about him, and more importantly whether he knows about their sleepover at the weekend. Louis assures him that Niall does not know the more intimate details of their coupling, but is aware that Harry is, quote, “more than a friend”, which makes Harry smile until his cheeks hurt.

He selects his faded dark grey jeans that were once black and a loose fitting black shirt to wear out, debating between about three different shirts before deciding to go for the plainest one. Boots are an easier choice; he goes for the black ones and gets his coat on, not ready to forgo his winter protection yet, no matter how warm (read: nervous) he feels currently.

His worry intensifies while he is underground and cut off from Louis for ten minutes. There isn’t one irrational fear that doesn’t run through Harry’s mind on the journey. He’s never been to the pub that he’s meeting the guys at; his clothes suddenly feel too tight and the tube feels like it’s about to derail at any moment.

However, he makes it safely off the tube and when he’s back above ground he lets Louis know he’s nearby and asks that he meets him outside. Louis teases him profusely over text before agreeing that he will be waiting by the door when Harry turns up.

Which he is. He looks so lovely and so little leaning against the vaulted double doors. His shirt, that looks white from a distance, is actually a lovely lilac-grey colour and the rolled over short sleeves show off toned, tanned biceps. He stands with his legs crossed casually, his blue jeans folded over at the ankles and he’s wearing black Vans.

His face lights up and he waves a little when he sees him. Harry feels giddy to see him again; it’s only been three days but that may as well have been three years. When they reach each other, with Louis on the step and his own feet flat on the ground, they’re at the perfect level to kiss.

“I’m tall for once in me life!” Louis beams as they break away. He tastes of frothy beer and minty chewing gum.

“Don’t get too used to it, little love.” Harry says as he steps over the threshold which brings him back to his height advantage. “I’m the King again. Anyway, let’s go in, you must be freezing.”

Louis nods sagely and holds the door open for Harry. He steps into the pub and spots Niall immediately. He’s unmistakable and just like his pictures in a cream Henley, navy bomber jacket and jeans. He’s up on his feet immediately when he spots them heading over, broad grin taking over his entire face as he holds out a dustbin lid hand for Harry to shake.

“Alright, mate! I’m Niall, grand to meet yous!” He introduces himself, slamming his palm against Harry’s with some force. “This one has been harping on about you all night!”

It’s only 7pm, so Harry is unsure how to feel about that. “It’s lovely to meet you, I’m Harry.”

Niall disappears to the bar shortly after without asking Harry what his order is. Louis briefly explains that Niall is like the keeper of the drinks, if that’s even a thing, always making sure everyone has a beer in hand. He fills him in quickly as to what Niall knows and what he doesn’t know. “He knows we’re… well, y’know, seeing each other? I just told him today so he’s like, buzzing with the new information. He gets the whole gay thing better than the others. He doesn’t care if you’re gay, bi, yellow or purple, he’s just Nialler. You’ll be fine. I painted you in a very good light.”

“I should hope you did.” Harry says, their tones both mutually lowered as they lean in close to each other.

“Drinks are in, lovebirds, up you come!” Niall booms as he returns with three beers on a tray. “I’ve ordered two bowls of chips and a garlic bread platter as well.”

Great, Harry thinks. “Mmmm, garlic breath. Great!”

“Least its Tommo havin’ to kiss yous and not me!” Niall quips and Harry’s cheeks redden instantly. He sneaks a glance at Louis who is smiling timidly, a flush of embarrassment colouring his complexion.

They move on quickly from all talk of kissing, flitting between sharing work stories and anecdotes of pre-Harry Louis.

Harry understands what it’s like to have an embarrassing friend that spills all your secrets; he has Nick. He learns a lot. Louis and the lovely Niall and the elusive Zayn all share the flat. They bow their heads for a moment to the ‘fallen soldier’ Liam who had apparently left to shack up with his girlfriend Sophia during the summer before. This issue appears to be a bone of contention for Louis that apparently isn’t resolved.

Niall has some very colourful stories from Pride to tell Harry; including the incident with the pot brownies and the incident with the wearing a rainbow flag as a dress.

“You got naked and wore just a rainbow flag through the middle of London?” Harry echoes in disbelief.

“No I didn’t!” Louis cries indignantly, before quietly adding, “It was Manchester Pride.”

Niall cackles, telling Louis that little details don’t matter and it’s all semantics. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so out of it!”

Louis’ cheeks burn bright as he and Niall laugh at him. He pouts and wraps a firm hand around Harry’s thigh. “I’m not an idiot. He’s making me sound like a twat.”

“I don’t think you’re a twat.” Harry says kindly, patting his hand on Louis’ on his thigh.

The food doesn’t take long to arrive. Niall scuttles off to get the condiments, leaving Harry and Louis alone again for a brief moment.

“You okay? Having fun?” Louis pops an unseasoned chip into his mouth.

“Yeah, it’s a laugh. You were right; Niall seems like a really good bloke.”

“Yeah, he’s the best, man.” Louis says wistfully. “Apart from you, of course.”

“I don’t mind being second best. I’m still the newbie after all.”

“Never second best.” Louis leans in to rub the tip of his nose into Harry’s neck. His breath is warm and his lips drag innocently over the visible skin. “My best boy.”

Niall arriving back with the chrome caddy of sauces and salt and pepper cuts short any further interaction they might share. Niall dashes the chips with a hearty shaking of salt and squirts a globule of mayonnaise around the plate at the twelve, three, six and nine o’ clock positions.

“You’re a mayo fan, then?” Harry observes with a smirk as he plucks out a chip that hasn’t been sauced yet.

“It’s the only way to eat chips, my lad.” Niall shovels about four in, not stopping to swallow before he speaks. “Lemme guess, you’re Northern so can only eat chips if they’re dunked in gravy?”

Harry and Louis chuckle simultaneously. “No!” Harry protests. He does like chips in gravy but he is actually partial to salt and vinegar chips with Heinz ketchup. He picks up the glass bottle of ketchup and says, “I like red sauce.”

“I’m shocked. It took me years to wean this one off chips an' gravy!” He points his fork at Louis who is busy tearing apart a cheesy garlic bread slice.

“What about chips and dippy egg?” Louis says, and Niall’s eyes light up.

“Yes, Tommo!” He exclaims with his mouth full and a greasy hand around his pint glass. “I totally forgot ‘bout dippy egg and chips. That’s the best, right Harry?”

“Well, it’s no chips with ketchup but it’s okay I guess!” Harry says slowly, laughing as Niall's expression becomes playfully incensed.

“Don’t even bother arguing with Ni on anythin’ to do with food, he’s the expert. You won’t win.” Louis advises. Niall grins proudly, obviously delighted with this accolade that Harry suspects might be self-appointed.

He takes the other half of Louis’ slice of cheesy garlic bread, the combination of grease and stringy melted cheese congealing in his mouth and it’s both horrific and delicious. He washes it down with a swig of beer and this might just be one of the manliest things he’s ever done. No sooner does he set down his empty glass, Niall is jumping out of his seat and scurrying back over to the bar.

“Is he always this hospitable?” Harry asks Louis, who is wiping garlic bread grease off his lips with the back of his hand.

“Yeah, he’s pretty much like a modern day saint.” Louis says, unaffected, and Harry realises that Louis is used to this. “There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for anyone, even like, murderers or something, he’d be volunteering to cook ‘em dinners and setting up support groups. Not a bad bone in the kids’ body.”

“I can see why you’re good friends. Everyone should have a friend like him.”

“Aww, yous talking about me?” Niall quips as he reappears with a drink just for Harry.

“Yes, actually.” Louis says bluntly, Niall’s grimace indicating Louis must have kicked his shin under the table. “Talking about what a good, good friend you are.”

“Thanks for the drink, Niall, let me pay you back?”

“No, no thank you. I don’t want your money.” Niall is very insistent, turning his face away comically as Harry tries to convince him to take his ten pound note.

“Save it babes, he’s stubborn as a mule too.” Louis interjects with a mouthful of garlic bread and mayo drenched chips. “Just accept the free booze and move on.”

Harry takes Louis’ advice and lets it drop, though in his mind he is still thinking of ways to intercept Niall’s pockets and give him some money. They talk casually about all sorts over another beer, Niall asking about the music college and sharing snippets of his own stories about open mic sessions where he had played guitar over the past year or so. His jaw hits the floor when Louis tells him about Nick and the radio show, and Harry has never felt that Nick’s radio gig was much more than just a job but clearly other people think it’s pretty cool, and by association that Harry is cool too. That’s a new experience.

It’s getting towards eleven when they finally decide to shift from their table. Niall had ordered puddings, because why the hell not, even though they technically hadn’t even had dinner, just appetisers. Between him, Niall and Louis they’d chosen sticky toffee pudding, New York cheesecake and chocolate ice cream with chocolate sauce and sprinkles respectively. Niall devours his cheesecake, ‘borrowing’ a scoop of extra-chocolatey ice cream out of Louis’ dish to top the last mouthful off with. Louis had finished off the remainders of Harry’s pudding and Harry had the last scoop of Louis’ chilly treat. Louis’d complained that it’s always him who ends up duped out of the most desert, but Niall had simply silenced him with a middle finger pointed in his direction.

“I gotta go wee, wait here for me?” Louis says, squeezing Harry’s shoulder as he gets up and walks, slightly unsteadily, in the direction of the toilets.

“Thanks again for tonight, Niall.” Harry says, suddenly feeling misty and what the hell? “I mean it; it’s been a good night.”

“Lou’s a good kid, y’know?” Niall asks, and Harry definitely knows that. He nods which spurs Niall on. “Sometimes, Lou just needs a kick up the arse.” Niall says, and Harry is unsure how to take that.

“What do you mean?”

“I guess he hasn’t asked you out yet?” Niall asks, nodding before Harry can respond; apparently he already has his answers. “He is mad on you, I can tell. The others don’t really get him, I don’t think. So he kinda just… coasts along, y’know? Does what he thinks other people think he should do. But if the yapping he has done tonight before ya got here is anything to go on, you are well in there, pal.”

Harry doesn’t really know how to respond to that. He knows what he wants to do; he wants to smack a kiss onto Niall’s forehead, cartwheel around the room and shout ‘he loves me!’ but that might be a bit previous. “I won’t mess him about.” He says eventually.

“I know you won’t kid, you’re a good lad, I can already tell. Look, ‘ere he comes.”

It’s true, Louis is re-approaching them now. His hair still stands victorious in a sweeping quiff, but he’s rubbed his wet hands on his jeans and it’s left a mark. His slightly bleary blue eyes still keep their sparkle as he re-joins them. “Did ya miss me, lads?” He asks, weaving an arm around Harry and resting his head on his shoulder.

“Of course!” Niall says, slapping Louis’ arm enthusiastically. “C’mon, let’s get to the tube!”

 

*

 

Harry ends up staying at Niall, Louis and Zayn’s flat until the small hours; the latter not materialising once throughout the night, though Niall claims that he must have been there at some point because the milk is in a different position inside the fridge door.

He smirks to himself at the memory of he and Louis’ self-exploration adventure on the very sofa he is sitting on now. Louis catches his eye and he must be able to read Harry’s mind because he smirks knowingly too.

There are plenty more beers consumed at the flat, the little voice in Harry’s head telling him he has the music college in the morning getting quieter and quieter the more he drinks.

Niall has the cricket on; some random team versus another random team, because apparently Niall is a Sports Guy as well as a Food Guy. Harry is surprised that these two traits can co-exist happily in one person. The sport plays quietly in the background, not that there is much jubilation to be had at a game of cricket. Harry only stops to gather his thoughts when he’s in the toilet trying to navigate his fly to have a wee. The more he stumbles with the button and zipper the more desperate he grows.

As he sits down to wee, it’s probably safer he figures, realisation hits him. This whole place smells of Louis and his lips taste of Louis and his skin burns with Louis. He can hear him down the hallway squawking over something with Niall and he’s grinning like an idiot having a wee sat down on the toilet. All because of this boy.

 

*

 

From a feelings point of view, Harry feels very accomplished as he makes his way to the music college early the next morning, despite the screaming hangover that is constricting his breathing and thinking and general well-being.

The students have a half day on Friday’s, so they have a Happy Birthday banner and a Cadbury Flake birthday cake on Thursday for Harry when he arrives. He snaps a picture of the cake with half the banner in the background and sends it to Louis and also to Nick. Louis’ reply comes first in the form of a text message.

_‘Birthday cake 1 of 2. That one looks good, enjoy babe xxx’_

Harry hadn’t forgotten about Louis’ promise to get him the very birthday cake he’d described to him all those weeks ago and by the sounds it, neither has Louis. Nick buzzes through next.

_‘It’s not your birthday til tomorrow, give a guy a break! x’_

Nick’s response is attached to a low quality Snapchat of his cheek, left eye and nostril, flippant as per usual, what with him having his own special brand of ‘humour’ and all. Nick’s aversion to celebrate birthdays as he got older had spurred Harry on to really drag out any and all birthday celebrations, making the occasion last for days rather than hours.

When Nick had turned twenty eight in the summer Harry had got him a birthday card ‘to a wonderful granddad’, stuck twenty eight candles into an iced Madeira sponge cake and started a rapturous chorus of ‘Happy Birthday to you’ not once but thrice. Nick had promptly changed Harry’s Facebook status to ‘binge eating Quavers singing along to Amy Winehouse with a finger up my bum’ just to spite him.

He battles on through the rest of the day; the presence of chocolate cake certainly helps cheer him up and make the day a little bit better. He takes the rest of the cake home to share between him and his flatmates, though once Jamie’s girlfriend Natalie has a slice and the other two have some, there’s little left to show for.

In desperate need of an ‘early’ night, Harry settles for texting with Louis until they both drift off some time just north of midnight.

 

*

 

Harry wakes up at quarter to six on the morning of Friday 1st February. There is just an inkling of light beginning to break through the heavy dark sky, catching the very edges of the purpley-blue clouds.

For once, Harry feels wide awake, so wrapped in the cover off his bed, and with his feet shoved into his beat up suede ankle boots, he shuffles up to the top floor of the flats and lets himself out of the emergency fire exit onto the roof garden. Roof garden is probably an overly generous way to describe the barren concrete wasteland that is the roof of their building. It’s about two storeys higher than any of the other buildings around it, and blocked off around the edges by a chest-height brick wall. The plant life that was probably intended to live there at some point is in reality just a few weeds and dandelions poking out from between the weather beaten brickwork.

There is a folding chair propped up against the air filter slap bang in the centre of the area, and miraculously it is dry so he takes it and drags it noisily across to where the break down in the brickwork is. He settles in with the duvet cocooning him like a pre-butterfly; he must look ridiculous hidden from the waist up but with his skinny twig legs uncovered and exposed in shorts and tan suede boots.

The extreme difference between the warmth of his upper half wrapped up and the chill of his lower half revealed is enough to make him feel just right; he fades in and out of sleep for a few moments watching as the sky gets lighter. He takes a picture of the slowly brightening view for himself before snapping a version of it to send to Nick on Snapchat. He captions it ‘early bird’ and waits patiently for Nick’s response.

_‘I’ve come up the roof to watch the sunrise. It’s surprisingly nice here. I will bring you one day when it’s warmer. Wish you were here though, I miss you xxx’_

He’s not sure whether it’s the poignancy of watching a sunrise or whether he’s actually just that far gone for this boy he has known for a mere three weeks, but his chest goes tight as he sends Louis a text message. He pictures his sleepy boy waking up from his rest, pulling himself out of bed to the kitchen to get his Nutella on toast, reading his message and hopefully smiling to himself in the way that Harry has caught so many times before but strangely, he feels he hasn’t seen anywhere near enough of that face on Louis.

_‘Imagine me there, im only little im sure there’s room for me. This morning is beautiful just like you xxx'_

Harry screenshots the message from Louis just to be doubly sure he won’t lose it. He thinks long and hard to find a message to reply with that even comes close to getting across what he wants to say and how amazing he wants Louis to know he is. Before he can, the little dots re-appear to say Louis is typing again.

_‘Happy birthday my sweet love xxx’_

Louis’ next text comprises twenty-two kiss emoji’s and a promise that later on, he will give him twenty two real kisses.

 

*

 

He does indeed get twenty two kisses when Louis arrives at his flat after work. Kiss number one starts on the jut of Harry’s left hip bone; the subsequent twenty one kisses trailing their way up his tummy and between his nipples, over his collar bone, up the shaft of his neck and over his jawline, the last one, the big finale, pressed upon his lips. Louis’ lips are soft and when his tongue pushes into his mouth, Harry can taste the Dr Pepper he’s been drinking that is now standing to attention on his bedside table.

“I missed you.” Louis says against the expanse of skin of Harry’s tummy as he nuzzles into him. He’s curled into a ball between Harry’s knees with his head resting on his tummy. Harry watches him shift up and down as he breathes.

“I missed you too. Two whole days apart really is too much, y’know?”

“I know you’re being sarcastic but you’re actually right.”

“I know, that’s the sad part.”

“We’ve already admitted we’re cheesy. That’s the first step isn’t it?”

Louis just laughs. He turns his head so he is facing the other way, his five o’ clock shadow grazing Harry’s abdomen as he shifts. “Oh, before I forget!”

He clambers off Harry, leaving him with a wet kiss just above his belly button. He roots around in his bag, and produces in all its glory the cake Harry had asked him for. Louis slides it out of the box and discards the packaging on the floor.

“I thought it’d be harder to find, y’know. He’s not how I remember him to be as a kid either; he’s all high tech now!” Louis says as he holds up the circular cake on its shiny silver serving board.

It’s exactly the one he wanted; Fireman Sam. Just like he had wanted as a kid but he never got. Over the years he’d got Postman Pat and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Spiderman and Pokémon, but never Fireman Sam.

“I don’t have any candles, I’m sorry.” Louis says into Harry’s shoulder. Harry does. He has plenty in the kitchen cutlery drawer but that’s by the by right now. Being half naked and half hard whilst he is presented with a Fireman Sam birthday cake isn’t what Harry would have envisioned this time last year. “We could just pretend?”

Harry peers down at him to see if Louis means what he thinks he means. Smiling broadly he nods, and dutifully Harry pretends to blow out the candles.

“Well done, birthday boy.” Louis puts the cake on the bedside table next to the Dr Pepper bottle and Harry catches his cheek with a kiss as he sits back down next to him.

“I really, really, love the cake Lou. It’s perfect. This whole day is perfect.”

“Good. I was hoping it would be. I’ve been waiting all week to see your face, see if you thought I’d forget.”

“No, I had faith in you.”

“Good.” Louis says. He swivels around and places himself on his knees either side of Harry. Somehow, with awesome coordination they shuffle sideways across the bed until Harry’s back hits the wall. "You look so beautiful today."

Harry feels coy as Louis' unbuttons his own shirt and slots his fingers in between his curls, a little hint of firmness holding him down.

With his own hands, he ventures under the flowing material and kneads at the blooming curve of Louis' hips and the up and down crevices of his tummy. Their lips still haven't touched; they connect at the forehead and share weighty breaths and murmur nonsense ramblings at each other until Harry finally makes a move to rid Louis of his shirt entirely.

"Is anyone else home?"

Harry shakes his head. The other two won't be home probably for at least an hour, and Natalie wouldn't show up without Jamie. "No, we're alone."

Louis nods as if he's considering this, before suddenly tilting Harry’s head up and crashing their lips together. Things go from intense and sensual to urgent and red hot very fast.

"I wanna fuck myself on a toy while you suck me." Harry whispers into his ear, feeling overpowered with sudden boldness.

"You wh- you do?" Louis stammers, tearing his lips away from Harry's in disbelief. Harry nods earnestly with wide, innocent eyes and Louis’ own eyes widen too.

Harry starts off squirming about around one finger, stretching and flexing the digit inside himself until he feels his muscles begin to relax. All the while, Louis is draped over his chest mouthing at his nipples; biting just on the bearable side of firmly, then suckling and flashing across his smooth tongue.

With a second finger added, he wiggles them together and scissors himself open further, room enough for his toy. The smooth and slicked plastic eases into him easily, the initial burn with the upgrade from fingers to plastic taking his breath away until he bottoms out with the toy and his muscles flutter inside him. He holds the device in place for a moment or two as Louis slides down his tummy to hover over his aching cock. With his legs open wide and his arm tucked around and under his right leg, Louis approaches from the left and licks a stripe up the nearest face of Harry’s cock. He doesn't use his hand, just chases after the pillar-like firmness with his poised tongue.

Harry feels like he is going to explode with each lick, it's almost more intense than the pulsing fullness he feels inside of him.

“Avert your eyes, Mr Sam!” Louis addresses the cake that sits innocently on the bedside table. He tosses Harry’s discarded t-shirt over the cake before sinking Harry back down to the back of his throat. Neither of them pays attention to the Dr Pepper bottle falling to the floor in the process.

"I feel so full." Harry says, spewing his inner monologue in a state of sated dizziness. "But, want you. I need you."

Louis groans affirmatively around Harry’s cock, sucking in his cheeks and bobbing up and down, up and down, the tremors causing Harry to buck his hips. Louis clenches the very tip of Harry with the fleshy muscles right at the back of his throat, and that feels good. That feels the best.

As Harry slowly but rather un-coordinately starts to move the toy again, a judder from the disturbance of the very periphery of his prostate sends Louis into overdrive. His spare hand ghosts over Harry’s tummy, and even though he isn’t looking, his fingers land right on the nub of his left nipple and he rolls it between his fingertips as he sucks. The triple whammy, nipple play, toy and Louis' mouth are just what he needs to really send him over the edge.

"I’m gonna come soon." He warns, reluctantly pushing Louis' hand away. The boy slows his sucks, focussing mostly on the head and the first inch or two, tracing patterns with his tongue and smoothing over the spit-covered skin with the flattened side.

"Lube?" Louis asks, somehow without taking his mouth fully off Harry. Awkwardly, Harry pats around under the pillows until he finds the bottle.

"You gonna fuck me? Good. I'm so ready for you."

Louis, who has popped off the top of Harry's cock and is neglecting to wipe his mouth, probably just to tease Harry, drizzles two streams of liquid down his fingers, the tracks forking off around his knuckles with the elevated position of his hand. Harry pulls the toy out of himself slowly, his muscles automatically trying to keep hold of the device as it is dragged away.

"I wanna feel it myself. Feel how ready you are. Open." He instructs, nudging Harry's thighs to fall open with his elbow. Harry willingly raises his legs up so his heels dig into the mattress and his legs fall apart at the knees. Louis rolls up his body and distracts him with sweet, soft kisses as he slips two fingers straight in. "Fuck baby, you're so hot. I want you now, let me have you?"

"Yes. Definitely." Their voices are barely audible as he reaches over to his drawer for a condom. He doesn't even have to look. He hands the packet to Louis between two fingers like a cigarette. The crinkling sound of metallic wrapping being ripped open comes, then Louis peers down at himself as he slips it on.

"Ready?" Louis asks again, rocking onto his knees and grabbing hold of Harry's for moral support. "Wanna ride me?"

"'kay..." They switch positions, Louis propped up in the middle of the bed on one pillow with his legs slightly apart. Harry straddles him like he was born to; cocking a leg over Louis and shuffling down until Louis' wrapped up length brushes against his bum cheeks. With a final liberal application of lube, he tosses the empty bottle to the floor, not thinking about the spillage that has likely occurred between their bodies. He hoists up a leg so he can hover over Louis' cock. He rocks his hips back and forth until he finds a comfortable position and reaches between them to grip the shaft. Louis is still hard solid in his palm; slick and smooth and slippery with the condom on. It shouldn't be sexy but damn it is.

Louis' cock feels so much better than his fingers or even his toy. The width of the smooth, sculpted end nudging past his hole is more than the toy could give him. He feels ever so slightly spacey as he takes the first inch or so. After the head has slid in the rest follows easier. They both share a throaty gasp and an impossibly intimate moment as Harry catches Louis' eye. The older man has his hands positioned firmly but not overpoweringly so on Harry's hips, guiding him down but not forcibly.

They both shudder with relief and pleasure as Louis bottoms out. He feels himself twitch and quiver around Louis as he pauses to breathe a second.

"Alright?" Louis asks, which is reassuring but Harry can only nod. Slowly, he tucks his feet in for leverage and begins to move.

It isn't long before a good rhythm is found and they become comfortable with the position. The bed springs are noisy beneath them but Harry can’t find it in himself to care as he rocks his hips back and forth and pulses up and down on Louis.

The head nudges his walls a little bit better each time, and he's powerless to stop the filthy noises that are ripping out of his throat. Falling forward to grab hold of the ledge that runs along the top of his bed frame, he anchors himself down and begins to sink back and forth with intent; the angle of every thrust hitting his spot entirely with the slight change in position. Louis’ fingertips dig in to his hips and Harry can feel the legs beneath him become more rigid as Louis slams his hips up to meet Harry slamming down; the friction and the power that they are creating between them electrifying and hot to the touch.

"Fuck babe, yes, this is, oh, I..." Harry doesn't even attempt to understand the plain gibberish that is coming from Louis at this time. He looks down between his flexed arms and Louis lifts his chin up to stare back.

Louis' mouth makes several aborted attempts at saying something, but in the end they just hold eye contact as they work together fucking each other. The close proximity to Louis and the sinful vision of watching Louis bite on his lip and bat his lashes through hooded eyes is enough to give Harry that feeling in his tummy.

He retracts one hand to reach down between their gyrating bodies and get a hand around himself. He's hard and already leaking pre-come; smearing it between their bodies and also up the side of his hand as he grabs at his bouncing cock.

"Wanna come with me?" Louis asks, dropping his gaze. "I'm close."

"Keep fucking me. I wanna come too." Harry instructs, tightening his grip both on himself and on the ledge keeping him from crushing Louis. His mid-coitus concentration and determination must give him added dexterity because he manages to continue to snap his hips back and forth in time with Louis’ lifts whilst tugging on his own throbbing cock successfully without doing either of them an injury.

Louis' whimpering and groaning intensifies as he's about to come; Harry has already established that. Louis' legs begin to stiffen beneath him and his efforts during their activity fade off as he lets out a stilted, garbled cry and comes into the condom. He reaches down and pushes Harry's hand away from his own cock, getting a handle on him and pumping Harry through the last few tremors before he's coming too; loops of creamy hot come dashing up and onto their abdomens.

Harry stays with Louis trembling inside of him for a few moments as they both catch their breath; Louis' hands desperately shadowing over every available inch of Harry's body.

"So good babe..." Harry says breathily, stopping for air after each word. He lifts his bum into the air and Louis pulls out with a hitching deep breath.

 

*

 

Once they’re cleared up, Louis uncovers the birthday cake and hacks at it crudely with a dinner knife. Harry accepts an imperfect slice and tries it timidly. Crumbs drop onto the sheets and the icing is particularly sweet on his teeth.

“Is it okay?” Louis asks, furrowing his brow as Harry chews obediently.

“Mmm, yeah, it’s perfect. Thank you again.”

“Anytime.” Louis says softly, cutting a slither of cake for himself and breaking it in half. He licks the jam and buttercream filling off of one half of the slice before shoving the rest into his mouth.

“Could you fit any more in there?” Harry asks, fully aware of the implication of what he’s asking Louis. It doesn’t bother him, Louis stuffing his face with cake, but he likes to pretend it does.

With a lovely spray of crumbs from his mouth, Louis snorts and smiles widely. Through a mouthful, he mumbles, “You love me really!”

Harry’s sure he meant it as a joke, jovial, playful and light, a turn of phrase perhaps, but it feels too real. “I do y’know?”

“What?” Louis swallows and whispers, his eyes channelling into Harry’s.

Harry feels his heart rate pick up as he gets the words ready to say. They’ve been ready and waiting for him to use for the last few days; this shouldn’t be as scary as it is. Or maybe it should. This is a big thing, an exciting thing and he does feel fairly confident. He begins slowly, torturing himself and likely Louis too. “I never thought it could happen this fast, never thought I’d meet someone like you.”

“Harry, I-”

“I love you, Lou.” Harry says before Louis can cut him off. If this ends badly, at least he can say he was open and honest. It might tarnish his memories of his twenty second birthday forevermore but it was out there now. He could either shut up and wait to see what Louis says back, or he could continue to ramble. He continues to ramble. “I know it’s like, less than a month, is that crazy? It sounds crazy, but, y’know, sometimes you just can’t stop it. I’m sorry if I’ve freaked you out. Thank you for the cake by the w-”

“Haz, shut up for a minute love, yeah?” Louis stops him mid-sentence with an affectionate insult and a firm hand on his thigh. “I have’ta say, and it might surprise you, it might not, I dunno. But…” He pauses and Harry has stopped breathing while he waits for what comes next. Louis has adopted a pretty stellar poker face and suddenly Harry feels very sick. But… “I love you too, you daft nut.”

His blood is coursing round his veins so loudly that he almost has to ask Louis to repeat himself. His expression must be priceless, or just plain gormless, because Louis breaks into a fit of giggles and claps his hands together loudly.

“Your face!” he cackles. “You are a picture babe! Did you hear what I said? Have you stopped computing?”

“Yes, I heard you.” Harry says quietly, feeling quite shell shocked. In the seconds after he’d told Louis he loves him, he’d been sure that he was going to get rebuffed. But Louis had just reciprocated the feeling. Louis lips are on his before he can decide what to say or do next. They stay sitting next to each other on the bed, the moment not one that is going to develop into anything hotter. One of Louis’ hands curls around the back of Harry’s neck and the other remains on his knee, soft and gentle and unaffected.

“I love you. I love you a lot. You’re the best thing in my world right now, Haz.” Louis says as their lips separate.

“Same. I love you, Lou-Lou.”

Louis rolls his eyes with a smile at the nickname, before turning back to the cake. “More?”

Harry nods silently. They kick back against the pillows, Louis reaching down to the messy floor for the remote control. There’s nothing on that isn’t already more than half way through, so they just settle on one of the music channels that tinkles away quietly in the background. They chat and they joke and they laugh and kiss a bit more, discussing the plans for the evening.

Their plans together will go past the evening. Go past Harry’s birthday; they’ll emerge out of the bitter cold winter and bloom along with the springtime. Their lives will burst with colour throughout summer and coast along comfortably through the beautiful autumn. They’ve got birthdays, holidays, adventures and anniversaries to come, interspersed with the humdrum continuation of everyday life.

Harry can’t wait.

 

/fin/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the smut was okay, I haven't got any experience in that area so.....
> 
> Hope you enjoyed.
> 
> PS - I loved Niall in this. I hope I did him justice. Sorry to the other two for not being included ha :)
> 
> PPS - Wow, can I just say I'm FLOORED by the kudos received on this chapter and overall, and the comment so far, I'm so grateful for the appreciation on this one, thank you to all of you :) tumblr: mummyamy10 x


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